


One Heart Beat and the Next

by ishtarelisheba



Series: Better to Face the Bullets 'verse [11]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: The Better to Face the Bullets 'verse wedding and honeymoon.





	1. In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt - _standbyyourmantis prompted a honeymoon smut one-shot]_  
>  (This chapter PGish, smut forthcoming.)

“I’ve got it! I know who it is, I’ve got it!” Belle called before she’d fully risen from the settee. She ran down the hallway and brought herself to a halt by catching onto the kitchen doorframe. She still held her book as she answered the telephone. “Hello! Hold on just a moment.”

Belle balanced the handset on top of the little wooden cabinet and ducked into the dining room to fetch a chair, parking it close enough that she could sit and talk. She grabbed the handset once more and sat on her foot on the way down. 

“There, all right. Rummond?” she asked, checking that he was still on the line.

It was his laughter that she heard before his voice. “Still here. And yourself?”

“I wanted to get comfortable.” Belle looked around before finding a spot on the hallway table to set her book. She stretched across to reach it. “How was your day?”

“Oh, just fine. Busy but fine.”

“Come on, then, tell me about your day. What kept you busy?”

They had decided to go along with the rather frustrating superstition of not seeing one another on the day before the ceremony. It meant that she hadn’t seen Rummond nor Neal since dinner the previous evening, and by lunchtime she was ready to declare it the most absurd tradition to spring up around weddings. It was one of the most important days of her life. To not be allowed the companionship of the person she was sharing it with was ridiculous.

“Mm, let’s see,” he said, and he began to fill her in on everything from waking Neal that morning to meeting with the carpenter who was to install the library shelving while they were gone. He told her about his lunch when she asked, and about crossing paths with Graham when he’d gone by the grocer’s for his and Neal’s dinner when he remembered, before ending with, “And I’ve missed you through all of it.”

She smiled, pressing the cuff of her cardigan over her mouth. “I’ve missed you, as well,” she told him, half muffled.

“How was _your_ day, love?” Rummond asked, not wanting any stretch of silence that either of them could find too much longing in. They only had hours, now. 

“Not nearly as eventful as yours,” she said, dropping her hand into her lap. “We’ve gotten most everything done, so there’s only the waiting left. I double checked I’ve got my dress and things together. Tasted a couple of things for Mrs. Potts. Sat, read, wiggled in anticipation.”

“I’d happily have been there for all of it.” He lowered his voice before adding, “The wiggling in particular.”

She made a pleased, tickled sound. “Neal is there close, hm?” 

“I’m sitting at the counter and he’s just the other side with his schoolwork. Almost finished with it, I believe,” Rummond said, and he reached across to tap the open page of his son’s book, bringing Neal’s attention back to it.

He’d decided to go by the house for a while after fetching Neal from school. Everything had been hooked up and installed - including a furnace, which had been no small task. Everything was prepared, their respective belongings moved, and that which needed decorating had been well decorated. Rummond had made certain that all was in order for the morning. Rather than heading straight back to the flat and calling from the landlady’s office, he figured they’d might as well make use of the shiny new candlestick telephone that waited in the kitchen.

“Tell Neal how I’ve missed him, as well,” Belle told him.

“Belle says she’s missed you,” Rummond relayed.

Neal called across to her, “I miss you, too! Tell her I got all my arithmetic done by myself, except that one with the naughts.”

“How bright he is!” she said, having easily heard. He had been moved up a level in school, and there was pride all around. “Tell him I’ll have kisses for him when I see him.”

Mrs. Potts gave her sat-upon foot a pointed look and a mildly disapproving shake of the head as she passed by.

“Belle says she’ll have kisses for you tomorrow,” Rummond told his son, who smiled with delight at the news. 

The boy had done no small amount of fretting over his father and himself not going over to the French estate for dinner. Rummond, for his part, fretted how Neal would handle the honeymoon. He and Belle had discussed it with Neal, and after some reassurance, he seemed to be all right. The next time it had been brought up, however, they’d had to go through the same reassurances again.

“And me?” Rummond asked, teasing her. “Will you have any for me?”

She hummed as though she had to think it over. “Well, you may have to wait a little while, but I don’t mind telling you that I have _quite_ the kiss planned for you.”

“All done!” Neal declared, and he clapped his book shut. He hopped down from the counter stool, going around to his Papa. “May I talk to Belle now?”

Rummond tucked the barrel-shaped handset between his cheek and shoulder so that he could lift his son onto his lap, then offered it to the boy. “Here you are.”

“Hello!” Neal chirped, speaking a bit too near the mouthpiece.

“Hello! Did you finish your schoolwork?” Rummond heard Belle ask over the line.

Neal nodded. “I did. I got it all done, and there’s no more ’til Monday.”

“That’s wonderful,” she told him. “You won’t have to worry at all about it tomorrow, then.”

“No schoolwork, just fun tomorrow,” he agreed.

“Dinner is going on the table,” Mrs. Potts called, the message loud enough that it was quite clearly meant for all of them.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Belle said. “I need to go now. We’re about to have dinner.”

Neal sighed, but he knew well that Mrs. Potts’ summons for dinner was not something to be ignored. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” she promised. “You’ll get to see me before your Papa does, you know.”

“Ooh!” Neal brightened again.

“Goodnight, and you have sweet dreams when your Papa tucks you in later,” Belle wished him.

“Night!” he said before passing the handset back again.

“Get your things together,” his Papa told him. “We’ll be going to have our own dinner as soon as I’ve hung up the telephone.”

Neal slid down to the floor, and he went back to put his things into his bookbag. The sooner they had dinner and went to sleep, the sooner it would be tomorrow.

Rummond settled the handset near his ear again. “Suppose I have to make my farewells now, too, don’t I?”

“Only this once more. It’s the last time I’ll have to tell you without keeping you with me,” Belle said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

The thought of it brought a smile to his face, as well. He closed his eyes, indulging in a quick fantasy of holding on rather than this constant letting go.

“Goodnight, love.”

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Belle arrived at the house more than an hour before Rummond, with Mrs. Potts, Ruby, and Mrs. Lucas in tow. Ruby carried the box that held her dress, beneath her own arm was the box that threatened to froth over with veiling tulle, and Mrs. Potts brought the rest of her necessities in the overnight satchel that had, in Belle’s excitement, held them for a fortnight.

The ceremony itself was meant to commence at half past nine, and guests would begin arriving at least half an hour before. Though it didn’t feel like it, she had plenty of time to get ready. Despite her nerves, she was happier than she thought she’d ever been, and that only promised to get better.

They set up in the master bedroom. Belle draped her blouse and skirts over the end of the bed, and Mrs. Potts swooped them up to put them away before she’d hardly turned around. She opened the box that she’d brought her dress home in, smiling as she laid it out on the quilt. 

Her wedding dress was made in two pieces. A light slip dress made a modest foundation for the sheer white silk overdress that went on top. The overdress was covered with full beadwork, and seed pearls picked out a design of graceful leaves up both sides. Her eyes had been drawn to it as soon as she stepped into the shop, and no other dress had measured up to the impression it had left on her. 

The overdress fell to her calves, the slip just a bit shorter to let the draping of the beads around the hem shimmy and shine. So heavily adorned it was that she could feel the weight, and it rustled cheerfully when she moved. It hung from her shoulders like a waterfall, following the shape of her without clinging too closely.

Belle sat down at the vanity - her mother’s, taken from her old bedroom a few days before when the last of her things were moved over - to put on her shoes. She opened the large, oblong, brown leather necklace box that sat to one side of the table and brought out the string of pearls that coiled inside. She lifted them over her head, then slid them until they were centered down her front. A little over halfway down the strand, the pearls had been arranged into a pretty and fashionable knot, and they flattered her _and_ her wedding dress just so. It seemed a smidge of destiny that they were her wedding present from Rummond. Without so much as hearing a whisper about her dress, he had given them to her after their last dinner at her father’s house. She’d never before had a string of pearls, and they were absolutely perfect.

Her present to Rummond had been her mother’s rosewood violin. Now that he’d the means to buy anything he might need or want, she could think of nothing more appropriate. She had spoken to her father about it first, hoping that he wouldn’t feel resentful or as though she was giving it without a great deal of thought. He had agreed, however, that the violin needed someone who would love and play it, and that sitting on a shelf to gather dust was the last thing her mother would have wished. Rummond’s face when she set the violin case in his lap had been the very picture of shock. It had taken some convincing, and reassurances from both herself and her father, but Rummond had been tickled pink once he understood their comfort with it.

“I’m going to see if that florist has brought the bouquet around yet,” Mrs. Lucas said, excusing herself. It was to be made fresh for Belle that morning, to be certain that there wasn’t a bit of wilt to the flowers, and Ruby’s Granny had remained concerned about the timeliness of its arrival.

Belle could hear the sounds of guests now and then as they were directed through the house to the proper door. Footsteps, laughter and cheerful chatter. It stoked her anticipation a little and her excitement even more.

The bedroom door opened again, far too soon to be Mrs. Lucas returning, and Belle caught sight of Neal in his little morning suit just in time to turn on her seat and open her arms for him.

“Belle, Belle!” he squeaked as she squeezed him. When she let him go, he patted her dress, petting the beads that draped over her knee. Looking up at her, he said softly, “You’re so pretty.”

“And you are the most handsome little boy,” she told him, grabbing him close again to kiss his face until he squirmed and giggled.

Mrs. Potts stepped over, holding out a small white cushion with white crewelwork around its border. She’d made it in the weeks leading up to the wedding, wishing to contribute something that Belle might keep in memento. “Is this what you’re looking for, dear?”

Taking the cushion, Neal hugged it to his chest. “Papa said he needs it for the rings.”

“Go on and take it to your father, then,” Mrs. Potts instructed.

Neal looked to Belle and she nodded. “It’s almost time,” she said. “I’ll see you and your Papa in only a few minutes.”

The boy took off, and Ruby hurried to close the door that he left open.

“Here, let’s see to the last bit,” Mrs. Potts said as she opened the veil box and pulled yards upon yards of tulle from it.

Belle stood, and Mrs. Potts and Ruby started on her veil. Ruby helped to fit the beaded bandeau over her upswept hair, and Mrs. Potts began working at pinning the tulle to it. She arranged the fine fabric away from Belle’s face, so that it flowed back, pinning it all around in such a way that the tiny, pearl-headed pins wouldn’t show.

“I’m not sticking you, am I, dear?” Mrs. Potts asked.

“No, no pins in my scalp,” Belle confirmed, grinning and shifting her eyes to look up. “I’m certain my yelps would tell you if you were. Or the blood would, if nothing else.”

She looked into the vanity mirror as they helped her with the finalities of getting ready. The day was lovely already. The weather was just ideal, everything was going to plan. If she could change a single thing, it would be that she had her mother with her. She suddenly wanted her mother with her more in that moment than she ever had.

Her wistful thoughts brought a sniffle from her. Ruby froze, looking at her in the mirror. “Belle? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing at all,” Belle said, taking a breath and mentally shaking the feeling away. When Ruby raised an eyebrow in challenge of her claim, she waved a hand. “Only thinking. I’m all right. Go on, please finish.”

Mrs. Lucas came bustling back in with the bouquet in her arms. A cascade of red cabbage roses rested on one, and she held the attached fall of blue streamers with red rose buds tied along their length draped over the other.

“You have everything, don’t you?” Ruby asked. “Old, new, and such?”

“I believe I’ve hit them all,” Belle said. She went through them for the dozenth time. 

Old was her mother’s griffin stick pin, attached to the strap of her brassiere. New were the pearls that Rummond gave her. The pretty pair of dangling pearl and amethyst earrings were borrowed from Mal, and a handkerchief that Mrs. Lucas had embroidered with blue daisies was tucked down the _front_ of her brassiere.

“Does anyone have a sixpence?” she asked, looking around at the other three women.

Mrs. Potts shook her head fondly, slipping a hand into her pocket. “A good thing I think of everything, isn’t it?” she said, producing a silver coin.

Taking it, Belle balanced herself with Mrs. Potts’ hand and lifted her foot, slipping the sixpence into her shoe. “There. That’s it.” She looked to the clock on the bedside table. “Oh, and that’s the time, isn’t it? It’s time.”

There was no one in the hallways as they made their way through. Ruby hurried ahead to take her place as matron of honor, and Mrs. Lucas went on to take her seat, as well. Mrs. Potts could handle the veil just fine, she’d assured them. Belle stood just at the door and held her bouquet in both hands, squeezing the ribbon-wrapped stalk with a nervous vice grip while Mrs. Potts arranged the length of tulle far and wide out behind her.

“Dear girl, perhaps don’t look as though you’re walking into traffic when you go out?” Mrs. Potts counseled, giving her cheek a gentle pat.

“Oh, no, I don’t mean to look that way. I’m so happy, I could vomit,” Belle said with a laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t eat before we left.”

Mrs. Potts gave her a funny look and snorted with amusement. “That’s a new one on me.” She fussed with how Belle’s veil fanned behind her shoulders once more. “You give me just a few seconds to get to my chair. Then you’ll know when to come on out. The music should start straight away.”

With an affectionate squeeze of Belle’s arm, Mrs. Potts let herself out, leaving the door just unlatched so that it could be easily opened. Belle heard the music begin with sweet strains of Pachelbel’s Canon, and the door opened.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

For a few very long minutes, the only sounds that Rummond heard were the odd murmurs of conversation coming from guests and his own heart thrumming a bit too hard in his ears. He thought the minister might have attempted to engage him in conversation once or twice while they waited, but he couldn’t hold the thread of it. Eventually, Father Radcliffe had patted his shoulder and given up.

Neal stood next to him, attention upon the little cushion that held a pair of rings sewn to its center with a single strand of thread, and Dr. Hopper stood near, as well. It had been an easy decision, who he wanted to stand up as best man, and the doctor had been so honored that he choked up when Rummond asked.

Very nearly everyone he wanted there was in attendance, with only the exception of those he wished most could be. He and Maurice had momentarily disagreed about Dove’s position among the guests rather than aside with staff; Belle’s staunch opinion, siding with him and pointing out that Mrs. Potts was very well sitting with the guests, had settled it quickly. Dove and the woman who was now his fiancée sat right up front.

The guest list was not an enormous one. There were only marginally more there than attended the engagement party, really. The only additions were Maurice’s two most important business associates and their wives, which Belle had at last compromised on, and a handful of distant relatives from her mother’s side who wanted to have a look at Belle and the man that their odd young relative had taken up with.

Their home was more than roomy enough for the ceremony and reception. Rummond, for his part, wasn’t worried over the guests. He was so happy that he felt the light of it could shine through and sear him right away. Everything was right.

Mrs. Potts came hurrying out to take her seat, and the violinist and cellist who were set up near the great white spiraea bush began to play. The door leading out to the back garden opened and Rummond’s heart leapt right into his throat. Belle stepped onto the patio, taking her father’s arm. The chatter silenced, and a gentle commotion moved through the guests as they stood for her. 

She took his breath. As she reached the halfway point between himself and the patio, Rummond could see the tears that shone in Belle’s eyes, and that only made the stinging in his own eyes worse. She was smiling so hard that a bubble of laughter surfaced when she when she got near. 

She slipped her hand away from her father’s arm and reached out for him, her heavy bouquet listing to one side as her attention on its balance faltered. Rummond took Belle’s hand, holding onto her as she made the last couple of steps toward him. Ruby, with a roll of her eyes and a smirk, took the flowers from her before she abandoned them entirely.

Belle had a moment of trouble believing that they’d at last arrived at the day and hour, but Rummond’s hand was warm and sturdy in hers, and it was all gloriously real. She held to his hand as though he anchored her to the surface of the world. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and she mused to herself that she would never let go of him.

The musicians softened their playing and the minister cleared his throat, lifting the prayer book that he’d been holding marked with a finger. They stood there while the minister prayed and then spoke regarding marriage. Though, if she were being honest, Belle paid more attention to Rummond’s eyes and smile than anything that Father Radcliffe said until he asked for their additions of ‘I will.’ 

The minister offered another short prayer before reading passages from the second and eighth chapters of Song of Solomon. He’d given them a choice of what might be read, and they’d agreed quickly which was appropriate for their own ceremony. 

“Rummond, Belle, I now invite you to join hands,” Father Radcliffe said with a grin and a glance at the way they clung to one another already, “and make your vows in the presence of God and his people.”

“I Rummond, take thee, Belle, to be my wedded wife,” Rummond began, then took his prompt from the minister, his throat so tight with tears that he only just got through repeating the words. “To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death do us part. According to God’s holy ordinance and thereto I give thee my troth.”

She was taken with the way he spoke her name in his vow, like a prayer suspended in the single word. It took a second prompting from the minister for her to begin her own.

“I, Belle, take thee, Rummond, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward,” she said, her smile broadening so that it almost hurt. “For better, and for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part. According to God’s holy ordinance and thereto I give thee my troth.”

With a second of difficulty and a resulting titter from the guests, Father Radcliffe took the rings from Neal’s cushion. He said another short prayer regarding them before first handing Belle’s ring to Rummond, giving him words once more.

Rummond cleared his throat so that his voice wasn’t so thin. He slipped the smaller ring onto her finger and closed both of his hands around hers, and when he spoke, it felt as though he were speaking to her in a room alone. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship. All that I am I give to thee. All that I have I share with thee. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

It was like a prayer itself, the assertion over the rings, Belle thought. She took Rummond’s ring and placed it on his finger, stroking her fingertips against his palm underneath. The tears that had wavered in her eyes and managed to make it thus far unspilled ran over.

Running ahead of the minister’s guidance, she spoke to Rummond. “With this ring I thee wed. With my body I thee worship. All that I am I give to thee, and all that I have I share with thee. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

By the time she’d finished, tears fell on Rummond’s cheeks, as well. There was a blessing and yet more prayer, and all Rummond could do was look at Belle. 

The minister leaned in just a bit, coughing to draw their attention. He smiled at the pair of them. “You may kiss here, if you wish.”

Belle moved her hands to Rummond’s shoulders and she rose up on her tiptoes. He bowed his head to meet her, and her heart thumped like mad when his arms wrapped around her. She kissed him soundly, a good, firm kiss that left no doubt, kissing him briefly twice more before she let the heels of her shoes down again.

Father Radcliffe presented them to the guests, and Rummond wasn’t certain whether he or Belle was more delighted when everyone stood to applaud. Ceremony done with, the musicians brought the song up again. 

Rummond took his cane from Dr. Hopper, who had kept it for him during the entire process, and when Belle caught her hand around his arm, he held it snug against his side. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby give Belle’s veil a quick pull and flip behind them to get it out of their path, so that they could walk back to the house. At the very forefront of their guests, Mrs. Potts sobbed into a handkerchief. Her father, though he did his best to sniffle it away, was well past teary, himself.

Mrs. Potts grabbed Neal as he attempted to get by her, trotting along after his parents as he was. She lifted him into her arms so that Rummond and Belle could have a moment alone. “We’re going in right after them, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid:  
> [Belle’s wedding dress](https://78.media.tumblr.com/641fb2d957bb851e4235693261ea63c6/tumblr_p6qmvwcuXr1uvepcao4_r1_1280.jpg)  
> [wedding music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZiKLiLDyK0)
> 
>  
> 
> _The passages that were read: Song of Solomon 2:10-13 and 8:6-7_
> 
>  
> 
> _My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away._  
>  For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;  
> The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;  
> The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
> 
>  
> 
> _Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame._  
>  Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.


	2. One Heart Beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts - _noora7 said: So after that chapter of BtFtB I'm most definitely going to need one where Belle isn't "prepared" for sex and Rummond is like that's alright and goes down on her to make up for his disappointment of not being able to clean his hand off! And maybe Belle can return the favour a while later when Rummond is feeling particularly self-conscious about their relationship for some reason?_
> 
> _Anonymous said: Ok, now I need to Rummond to get to play with Belle's hair or just get his hands in it somehow. Please?_

They gazed at one another for a few moments, hands clasped and simply breathing in the ringing absence of noise. She’d tugged him toward the library - the room nearest the garden door - for a few minutes of quiet before they joined their guests.

Belle tilted her head back for another kiss, this one unwitnessed and only for herself. As elated as she was to let the world know that Rummond was hers, she reveled in the privacy they had whittled out for themselves over the course of their friendship and romance, as well. 

There was nothing brief about the kiss she asked for. Rummond caught his cane on the door handle and lifted his hands to cradle them against the sides of her neck when he leaned down to meet her lips. She responded by taking solid hold of his lapels. She nipped his lower lip in her excitement, but she supposed she’d done so often enough that it didn’t bother him, as he didn’t pull back. The fact that he was a bit breathless when he broke the kiss did all manner of good things for her ego.

“Here…” She let go of his clothes so that she could take her engagement ring from her right hand, where it had waited during their ceremony. “Put this back where it belongs?”

“Certainly,” he said as she gave it to him. He held her hand and slipped it back on to rest with her wedding ring. Rummond stroked his thumb across both before lifting her hand, kissing the back of her fingers.

Belle smiled up at him. “Do you know how happy I am to have those right there?”

“Oh, I believe I do,” he replied, pressing another kiss to her hand.

She looked back to her veil where the length of it bunched behind her, then began patting her fingertips over the part of it that attached to her head. “Help?” she said with a laugh. “Mrs. Potts pinned it on. I’m not sure I’ll get out of it without you.”

With a grin, he began following her example, running his fingertips along in search of the tiny pins. To keep up with them, he slipped the sharp ends into the fabric of his waistcoat as he went. Belle had to brace a hand at the back of her head after a certain point to keep the veil’s weight from pulling when the pins started to dwindle. Rummond helped her to carefully remove the bandeau from her updo and fingerwaves that she and Ruby had worked at with such diligence before leaving her father’s house. 

She gathered the pearl pins from Rummond’s waistcoat and took them along with her veil, leaving the pins on the bedside table and the veil on the bed that would be theirs. Her heels clicked on the wooden library floor as she went back to him. Not yet arranged with furniture and shelves, the large room held only her boxes of books stacked in its center, and the sound echoed a little.

Rummond greeted her with arms that reached out for her. She kissed him again, dropping a couple of quicker kisses on the lips while his hands formed to her hips. _So_ badly did she want to stay behind closed doors and make use of the new bed in just the next room over. Their guests, though - they had guests, and they would be leaving for their honeymoon in only a few hours. She could wait that long.

“Suppose we should go in, shouldn’t we?” Rummond said, his hands moving against her a little. The beads on her dress were smooth and warm from her body. 

Belle patted his chest, smiling up at him. “We should. I’m absolutely starving.”

“You haven’t eaten?”

She shook her head. “Did you?”

“A few bites of toast when I fed Neal,” he told her. “Too nervous for much more.”

“Come on, then.” Still holding on for another moment, she steered them around until she was the one nearer the library doors. She took his cane from the handle and gave it back to him. “I’ve a feeling they’re waiting for us.”

“Being the bride and groom, it’s possible,” he said, glad when she took his free hand rather than walking ahead.

They made their way up the hallway and through the parlor, set up for their reception afterward, and into the dining room for the wedding breakfast. Their guests met them with renewed noise - hellos and cheers and applause, all scattered among the people who waited for their return. Neal slipped away from the kitchen and ran to them, colliding with his father’s legs before he turned to take Belle’s other hand. He swung it, sticking close when people began approaching them. There were guests who wanted to hug her and to shake Rummond’s hand, best wishes and congratulations, and she was relieved when Mrs. Potts announced that the meal was about to be served.

The dining room sideboard was piled high with gifts that would remain unopened until they returned from their honeymoon, after which Belle knew she would have to deal with thank you cards and likely people calling on them. She was thankful she’d taken a week’s leave for after the honeymoon, as well. She would need it, and they would of course enjoy it. They would be able to settle into the house, get it squared away the way they wished, and hire on at least some portion of a staff to take care of the day-to-day before she had to go back.

The wedding breakfast that Mrs. Potts and her kitchen staff had broken the kitchen in with was exemplary. It was a meal of their favorite dishes all around. Rummond had to take care not to make himself overfull, but Belle and Neal seemed content to stuff themselves without any ill effects. 

Between courses, Neal talked Liz Lagorio’s ear off. She entertained his chatter admirably, talking with him on the finer points of garden creatures. He was beyond excited when she informed him that she’d spied a small pool frog in the front garden upon her arrival, and Neal regaled her of his trips from the French estate to their new home with boxes of lizards.

By the time the meal was over and they moved the celebration into the parlor, the musicians had turned into a piano quartet and installed themselves in the far righthand corner of the room. Belle enjoyed the music as the guests who hadn’t gotten in their well wishes before breakfast gave them afterward. Her father went over for a word with the quartet, and they began playing music suitable for dancing to. She kept near Rummond’s side; she wouldn’t have him worry about not being able to join in.

Guests drifted to the open middle of the parlor to dance. She smiled to see Jefferson and Alice begin, and Dove and Eirlys soon joined. David and Mary Margaret were among some of the first, and though Ruby had to virtually threaten her husband into taking her out onto the makeshift dance floor, they moved quite well together. 

Neal left his parents’ sides when Grace approached to ask Belle whether only the adults could dance. Belle told her that anyone who wished to dance absolutely could, and Grace had asked Neal if he wanted to go with her. Before too long, they saw wee Emma heading toward the pair with some manner of determined look on her small face. A bit later, Belle heard her father ask Mrs. Lucas to dance. 

Belle leaned into her husband’s side, glad that he brought his arm up around her when she did. She felt a pinch of sadness again, unable to help wishing that her parents could have danced together at her wedding.

“What is it, love?” Rummond asked, tilting his head to speak quietly to her.

“It’s nothing,” she told him, brushing the feeling away just as she had when Ruby asked earlier in the morning.

“Belle,” he said, and she looked up at him, realizing how he could see.

She blew out a breath, shrugging a little. “I wish my mother were here.”

Rummond’s hand flexed where he held it against her side. There was nothing that he could say or do to make her wish come true or the need for it to go away, but he somehow made it a bit easier, anyway. He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, and his closeness and the way his breath felt as it moved past her ear were a comfort.

She looked over to a handful of her friends through the open dining room doorway, noticing how they’d moved in a small group to the end of the table nearest the parlor. She understood immediately why.

“Graham and Dr. Hopper can’t dance here,” she whispered, leaning her head on Rummond’s shoulder. “Mal and Ms. Wock can’t, either.

Rummond caught her meaning, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Perhaps they’ll dance at home afterward?”

Belle looked up at him and stole a quick kiss from him before heading over to sit with them for a bit. Rummond followed her, and she was glad that he did despite her not asking, though he did no more than remain near her.

“Having fun?” Graham asked when she walked in.

She grinned over at him. “More than I’ve ever had all put together!”

“You’ll double that again tonight,” Mal said, a wicked sparkle in her eye.

Belle felt her face warm a little, though she beamed. She took the empty seat next to Mal, and Rummond stood behind her, his hand on the chair’s top rail. Sobering a great deal, she lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, I’ve only just noticed that you’re all sitting here because you can’t dance in front of everyone.”

“Pish posh.” Mal grinned, taking Belle’s chin between her forefinger and thumb to give her head a fond waggle. “We’re plotting, here.”

“There’s a little place we’ll be heading for when the reception is over,” Graham told her. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll have our fun.”

“Mm, we’ll have our dances and more,” Ms. Wock agreed, looking past Mal to give Belle a toothy smirk. “And possibly a bracing chase, being a Saturday night.”

Dr. Hopper quickly assured her, though. “We’ll not be getting into trouble.”

Ms. Wock nodded. “No, because my Daimler is a damn sight faster than those rattlesome wagons they try to sneak up with raids.”

“Oh, Jasper, there’ll be no raid,” Mal scolded, giving Ms. Wock a clear ‘quiet, you’ look. She turned to hug Belle. “You keep the earrings. Call them a thank you gift,” she said and gave Belle a rather dramatic wink when she sat back.

Belle laughed. “For what? Making you interim head nurse?”

“Well, I was thinking of how you helped with ridding us of Nurse Mills’ reign of terror, but _that,_ too!”

“Thank you. You needn’t thank me for either, honestly.”

Mal gave her a graceful shrug. “Wear them in good health. And I’ll look forward to getting your note after you open presents.”

“You brought something for us?” Belle asked, curious what it might be.

“Oh, did she!” Ms. Wock said, and she chuckled as she popped a bit of marzipan into her mouth.

“Shush,” Mal said, waving a hand. “Don’t give her hints.”

The small group dissolved into teasing and laughter again, and when they resumed talk of their evening plans, Belle and Rummond excused themselves. She drew Rummond over to sit on the navy blue settee they’d chosen for the parlor, temporarily positioned against the wall next to the dining room doorway to make room. A good many of their guests were still dancing. She sat down next to him to watch them.

“I’m sorry you haven’t gotten to dance,” Rummond said out of nowhere.

She wondered how long he’d been dwelling on it. “I don’t mind.” She rested her hand on his thigh, and she delighted when he turned a bit pink in the cheeks. “What I want is to be with you, and I have that.”

Belle lifted her hand to touch his cheek, and it brought a smile to his face, clearing his features of concern. It was immensely satisfying that she didn’t have to stop touching him when she felt someone walk up. Looking up, she found her father standing over them. He sat next to her, placing himself at an angle on the settee so that he could see both she and Rummond.

“Are you having a good time?” she asked him, though judging by the smiles she’d seen on him and the way he’d been bustling between groups of guests to chat, she was fairly certain that he’d been having an absolute ball. 

“I am, I am. And I’m so happy for you, my dear,” he said, reaching to pat her hand. “Your happiness is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Suffering nothing so stuffy as a simple pat on her wedding day, Belle leaned up to hug him about the neck. “Thank you, Papa.”

“I want to tell you I’ve had a talk with Mrs. Potts,” Maurice said when she’d let go and sat back again. “We’ve decided that, if you wish, she’ll go with you. Into your employ.”

Her mouth dropped open a bit and she looked to Rummond. He was smiling at her in such a way that she developed a sneaking suspicion he knew all about it. Turning back to her father, she asked, “Papa? Are you sure?”

“Your mother brought Mrs. Potts along when we married, and she half raised you. You’ve more right to employ her than I,” her father said. “She’s trained her kitchen staff well. I can simply choose a new cook from among them.”

Belle burst into tears and flung her arms around her father again.

“Belle?” he asked, flustered and unsure of her response.

“Thank you!” she said, her voice watery. “I believe that’s the best wedding present you could have given me!”

Maurice patted her back. “Well, I figured that you and she would both be happier if she went along with you. And it would save you having to weed through cooks, besides.”

Belle settled back in next to Rummond, and he offered her the handkerchief from his inner pocket to blot her face and dry her eyes. “I’m going to have to find her and give her the same,” she said with a laugh. She pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek and hurried off to track down Mrs. Potts.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ 

It was half past noon when she took Rummond with her and stepped away from the reception to change out of her wedding dress. They were meant to leave by one, and taking into account changing and farewells, they would be pushing that.

Belle tucked her pearls down the neck of her wedding dress before getting out of it with Rummond’s help. She laid both pieces next to her veil. She wasn’t certain what special care needed to be taken in putting them away, but Mrs. Potts would know. 

It perhaps took her longer than it should have, changing dresses. Her eye kept straying to Rummond where he traded his morning suit for a suit far less formal. He looked _so_ nice in his underthings, and she couldn’t deprive herself of having a nice, comfortable leer at her husband.

“What is it?” Rummond asked as he tucked his shirt into his trousers, catching her as she watched him. He looked down. “I don’t have something on them, do I? 

“No, nothing like that,” she said with a shake of her head. “Something in them.”

His eyes flicked back up to her, and she caught at the same moment that she’d misspoken. A smirk curled at one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant!” Belle squawked, swatting a hand in his direction despite him being much too far away. “You. All of you. _That’s_ what I meant.”

Rummond’s smile went from amused to pleased at her reasoning. She huffed fondly at him and slipped the earrings from her ears, turning to her vanity to lay them in her jewelry box. Unpinning her mother’s griffin from her brassiere strap, she placed it in, as well.

He was buttoning up his waistcoat when she fished the embroidered handkerchief from her bosom. Rummond raised an eyebrow and limped around the end of the bed to her. 

“What else have you in there?” he teased as he reached out, pulling at the front of her brassiere with one fingertip and leaning to look inside.

“You know what else I have in there,” Belle said, her remark quite purposefully suggestive this time. She dropped the handkerchief onto the bed and finished buttoning up his waistcoat. “And you can see for yourself later on this evening.”

She bounced up on her toes to give him a brief kiss, skirting around him to sit down on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed. She switched her shoes for a pair she’d bought to go along with her getaway dress. The sixpence fell from her left wedding shoe, and she leaned down to pick it up.

“Put this in my jewelry box?” she asked, holding the coin out to Rummond.

He grabbed hold of her hand, giving it a tug. “Well, aren’t you going to let it go?” 

“Silly!” she accused with a laugh. He at last released her and took only the coin. “Just you wait until I get you alone with time to spare.”

Rummond chuckled and took his cane from the bed just behind her, crossing to her vanity.

She went to the great oak wardrobe that now sat against the wall across from their bed. Her getaway dress was made of pale blue silk chiffon, and a panel of Battenburg lace had been inset over the chest. The fluttery sleeves didn’t quite reach her elbows, turning into a capelet across the back. After bearing the weight of her wedding dress for hours, the airy fabric was a relief. 

Belle slipped her dress carefully over her head and snapped the closures along the side. She looked into her vanity mirror from a distance to straighten the way the fabric folded around the neckline, then gave the layered skirts a shake with her hands to make certain that the chiffon didn’t cling together.

“You look beautiful,” Rummond said, stepping over to stand next to her.

He placed a hand at her back, and she was glad of the lighter fabric in her dress for yet another reason. The warmth of him went right through to her skin.

His hand stroked back and forth just a bit. “You’ve been breathtaking all day, though.”

Belle turned to face him. “I’ll have you know that you’ve had me quite breathless, as well, husband,” she told him as she straightened his tie. 

His heart gave a skip every time she said it. _“Wife,”_ he whispered to her, hoping that she enjoyed hearing it even half as much as he did. He grazed his hands against her sides, appreciating the softness of her through her dress. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She beamed, sliding her hands up until she could thread her fingers together behind his neck. “I feel as though I’m taking up all the happiness in the world right now. I should be leaving some for everyone else.”

They had to force themselves back to the party. It was far too easy to linger alone in the quiet of the bedroom, and when Rummond checked his watch, they were very nearly behind schedule.

Saying goodbye to their guests was an easy thing. Hands were shaken again and hugs given, and well wishes expressed all around. It was Neal who made leaving difficult. He went between standing at his Papa’s coattail and Belle’s hem, quiet in the knowledge that they were preparing to leave.

Belle took Neal’s hand and led him out into the sunshiny front garden with them. Their luggage was in the boot of her father’s tourer and Horatio waited patiently by. All that was left was one final farewell. She squatted down in front of the little boy, holding his hands in hers, and Rummond stood near enough that his son could lean against his legs. He petted Neal’s hair, doing his best to comfort him.

Neal’s lower lip trembled as they spoke to him. They’d talked about how long they would be gone, and how he would stay with Mrs. Potts and Belle’s father during that time. He’d helped them to pack a trunk full of his things to keep there while he stayed. And while he had been all right with it then, it had been in the future. Now that they were heading off, it was a bit different.

“It’ll only be for a fortnight,” Belle gently reminded Neal. “Do you remember how much time that is?”

He nodded and murmured, “Two weeks.”

“That’s right,” Rummond said. “Fourteen days. You’ll only go to bed fourteen times before you see us again.”

The boy twisted his mouth to one side. He looked at Belle and then up to his Papa. “Fourteen whole days and fourteen whole nights.”

“There are only two weekends in there, and you’ll have school to occupy you during every day of the week, won’t you?” Rummond reminded him.

“And Mrs. Potts can call the hotel that we’ll be at on the telephone,” Belle said, squeezing his small hands. “We’ll call you every evening to tell you good night.”

“Aye, every evening,” his Papa agreed. “And if something happens that you need to talk to one of us about before the evening, Mrs. Potts will help you call us.”

“We’ll be bringing presents back for you, as well,” Belle promised. She gave Neal an encouraging smile. 

Neal sighed, his breath trembling, and Rummond could see that his son was doing his very best to not cry. He turned his cane so that he could use it for balance as he squatted down next to Belle. “We’re coming back, duckling, you understand, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Belle breathed, glancing to Rummond. She looked back to Neal. “Oh, my goodness, yes. Of course we’re coming back!”

“Fourteen days,” Neal repeated quietly.

“Yes, darling. Fourteen days. You can ask Mrs. Potts to show you how to mark them off on the kitchen calendar.” She drew him closer, pressing kisses to his cheek. “We’ll always come back to you. _Always.”_

He looked between them, his eyes settling on his Papa to ask, “Always?”

Rummond reached up, stroking the back of his fingers against his son’s round cheek. “Just as Belle says. Always.”

Neal leaned toward his father and Belle let go of his hands so that he could have the hug that he was asking for. Rummond held him close with his free arm, kissing Neal’s face when his son had been satisfied with his hug.

“Bye-bye, Papa,” Neal said, though it was quite obvious that he wasn’t happy with it. “Only fourteen days?”

“That’s all,” his father promised him.

Neal turned to Belle, leaning himself into her arms. “Bye-bye, Mama.”

Belle only narrowly managed to keep from dissolving in tears. She hugged him so tightly that Neal squeaked, “Can’t breathe,” at her, and she loosened her hold. 

“I love you,” she told him. “So much, darling.”

Neal pulled back, kissing her cheek before he stood on his own feet again. “Love you, too.”

Belle motioned to Mrs. Potts, knowing good and well that she stood by the window. Mrs. Potts came out and Ruby came along with her to take Neal back inside. Rummond levered himself up, giving Belle his hand to help her up, as well. They headed toward the gate and the waiting tourer while Mrs. Potts and Ruby distracted Neal.

“We’ll bring out games in the sitting room,” Mrs. Potts told the little boy, gently herding him. “You and Grace and Emma can play, hm?”

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ 

She’d had every intention of enjoying the drive down to Dover. As soon as he snugged herself into Rummond’s side, however, beneath his arm, leaning her head against him, all was lost. She had fallen asleep on him. He woke her gently when they reached the ferry at half past four.

They had made decent time, despite delays here and there. Even the ferry across the strait made good speed. By the time they made it to the train in Calais, all was well and they had time before it set off.

Belle’s hair, done as it was for prettiness rather than durability and hours of travel, had begun to attempt escape when they reached their suite on the train. As they sat on the end of the bed and recovered from the rush between the boat and train station, Rummond found a loose, curling end to wind lovingly around his finger.

“Help me take it down?” she asked him.

“Turn a bit,” he directed as he shifted to face her a bit better.

Rummond relieved her of her hairpins, and she hummed with contentment when he began combing his fingers through her hair. He went slowly and carefully, coaxing tangles free from the long waves of it. When he finished, she slipped open the buckles on her shoes and let them drop to the floor. 

“Getting comfortable?” Rummond asked, though she knew he’d dispensed with his own shoes just after they sat down. 

She leaned back against him. “I am, indeed. It’s been a long day, and I refuse to wear shoes any longer than necessary.”

He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. Then she felt her quite comfortable husband begin to move. “Where are you going?”

“Just here,” he said as he left the bed. He held a hand out to her.

“I have to stand?” She pretended to pout, but she gave him her hand anyway. “Why do I have to stand?”

“Because I’ve an idea.” Rummond drew her close. He held their joined hands to his chest and rested his other hand in the small of her back, beginning to sway them a bit. “I can’t precisely foxtrot, but I can do this much.”

Belle smiled up at him. “I get to dance on my wedding day,” she said, moving with him. She curled her free hand at the back of his neck, stroking the ends of his hair between her fingers.

After a few moments, she heard Rummond begin to hum. It took her a while to catch which tune he gave them to dance to, but when she did, her smile grew and she hummed ‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart’ along with him.

They went on swaying through the song at least twice before Rummond asked, “Happy tears?”

“Hmm?” she asked, the sound cutting into the flow of the song.

Rummond took his hand from her back, reaching up to brush the pad of his thumb across her cheek. She hadn’t noticed.

She laughed and nodded. “Happy tears. Very happy.”

He bowed his head to kiss her, catching her lower lip between his before pulling back. There was a second kiss, and he did the same to her upper lip. Belle moved her hands to his waistcoat buttons and began slipping them back through their buttonholes. It didn’t take her long at all to have them undone. She slid her hands inside it, around his waist, pressing herself against him.

The feeling of her hands on him and her body held so close sent a warmth through him right to his toes. His stomach gave a pleasant flip, and his hands grasped at her waist, squeezing there in anticipation. Belle leaned away from him enough to get her hands on his shirt buttons, and she began laying them open, as well. In moments, she was stroking her fingertips over the soft cotton of his undershirt. She rose up onto her toes for another kiss.

She pushed at his jacket until she had it down his shoulders. “Off,” she said, twisting to undo her dress’ snaps. “All of this, off.”

“Are we in a hurry?” Rummond asked, teasing her, but he set his cane aside. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, then let his open waistcoat slide down his arms.

“Not a ‘hurry,’ per se, but I didn’t get to see you at all yesterday, and I’ve not had my hands on you for much longer than that.” Belle grinned up at him, and she took off the pearls he’d given her. She lay them on the top of her overnight case before beginning to wriggle out of her dress.

He took her example and pushed his braces off his shoulders, fiddling his cufflinks back through his cuffs and leaning to drop them into the coils of her necklace. Belle was down to her underthings almost instantly. With the tip of her tongue held between her front teeth, she went back to helping him, undoing his trousers and working on his shirt buttons from the bottom up while he made his way down to meet her in the middle. Once they had him down to his last layer, she took his hand and began backing him toward the bed. 

“Belle-” he said, glancing over his shoulder to see how near the edge of the mattress was. The backs of his knees hit it, though, before he could judge where to stop. He dropped back onto the bed and his wife followed, kneeling across his hips.

He could feel the heat of her through her loose silk drawers, the warm wetness soaking through as she rubbed against him. His body’s response was immediate. “Oh, God, Belle…”

“Rummond, I should tell you something,” she said, clearly uncertain about it. Her hands ran along the bare skin of his belly where his undershirt had ridden up. “It’s not fair to not tell you.”

Her tone was serious, and he couldn’t imagine what it could be. Having her astride him, both of them keyed up as they were, didn’t help him think at all. “What’s the matter?” he asked, resting his hands on her thighs.

She shifted restlessly against him. “I don’t have my preparations.”

“Your- you forgot them?”

“I left them.”

Rummond blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. Turning his head, he looked out the train window. The trees were still. “We’re not off yet. We could go fetch them, catch a later train.”

“I left them on purpose,” Belle said. She pressed her lips together, watching his face.

“On purpose,” he echoed.

She moved her hands away from his skin, ready to get off of him if he decided that he wanted her to. “If you want to wait and talk about it more before we go trying, we can go back and get them. Or I’m certain I could find something once we arrive in Antibes.”

He stared up at her. “You left them on purpose,” he said again, a bit stuck there. “You want to hazard it?”

“Well, ‘hazard’ isn’t the sentiment I was feeling when I left them.” She smiled sheepishly down at him. “More like, see what might catch?”

“Are you certain?” he asked softly, looking at her in wonder now that he understood. “Your job. And school. You want to chance it? Now?”

“Well, I didn’t make the decision without thought. I’ve a plan.”

“A plan?”

“If I catch. I’ve thought about it. A great deal, and for a very long time,” Belle assured him. “Dr. Whale won’t fire me. His hospital’s never been more in order or farther into the black.” She gathered the hem of his undershirt in her hands, pushing it up. “Let’s see what happens.”

He sat up, and for a moment, she worried he might be upset about it all. He wrapped his arms around her, though, and before she knew it, he’d changed their positions. He pulled open the slender ribbon at the waist of her drawers and tugged them down. Belle giggled at his enthusiasm. Reaching behind her, she slipped the hooks at the back of her brassiere from their eyes and tossed it over his shoulder.

Rummond didn’t take the time for his own underthings just yet. He insinuated himself between her legs, lying down on his stomach so that he could kiss her knee just above her stocking. 

“Rummond, what are you doing?” she asked. It was by no means unpleasant. She simply wasn’t sure quite what he was at.

He pressed a kiss a few inches higher on her thigh. “Since you haven’t got your preparations, there’s nothing I can’t put in my mouth, I figure?” He looked up at her. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to try for a _very_ long time.”

“Oh!” she gasped when she caught on. She pulled one of the pillows from the other side of the bed, pushing it behind her so that it propped her up a little more.

Rummond nipped at the tender skin high on her thigh, then gave it a lick, and she squeaked. He smiled and did the same a little higher. He spread his hands wide around her hips for a moment before encouraging her to open her legs further, and he shifted so that his shoulders rested up against the backs of her thighs.

He ran a hand down her abdomen, his fingers stroking along her skin, and touched her gently lower. He found himself in awe at how she glistened. Rummond leaned in close and nuzzled into the soft curls between her legs before pressing a kiss to her mound. He was rewarded with another soft gasp from his wife upon kissing a bit farther down, and she gave him a sharper one as he dared his first lick into her.

Belle, propped against her pillows, watched him. She couldn’t see all he did, but she could see enough.

“Is this all right?” he asked, and his voice was so husky and needful that simply the sound of him sent a pulse of pleasure between her legs.

“Yes! Yes, it’s-” She took a trembling breath, _needing_ him to keep going. “Yes, please.”

The grin he gave her from his particular position sent another thrill through her. She reached down, relieved that she could touch him in return. She ran her fingers through his hair at his temple, where it fell forward when he resumed, and stroked the back of his neck with the other. 

Rummond had been ready for her almost as soon as she began undressing him, but her hands on him, petting him and encouraging him, made him all the more sensitive. He shifted his hips against the mattress. He licked as deeply as he could, nipping gently at her folds when he pulled back. Licking higher, he teased near and over and around the little pearl at the top of her cleft before moving lower again. He could tell by the way her fingers curled in his hair and pressed at the back of his neck how high her need reached. The sounds she made, groans and whimpers and deep gasps when he licked into her, had _his_ heart pounding. 

Everything became a part of how wonderful Rummond’s mouth felt. The way his hair slid between her fingers, the way his shoulders pressed up against the back of her thighs, his breath and the sounds that she was certain he didn’t realize he made. He licked all the way up again, and her toes curled.

“Rum, please!” she gasped, the words seeming to pull themselves from her. 

Nuzzling in and pursing his lips over the little bundle of nerves there, Rummond sucked at her, sending her flying over the edge in a back arching, nerve shattering orgasm that made her feel as though she’d fallen utterly apart. Her thighs squeezed around his head and she clung to handfuls of his hair, holding his mouth against her as she climaxed. 

The first thing she heard when she could hear more than her own panting and her pulse rushing in her ears was Rummond’s delighted laugh. She could feel it right up against her. Belle unclenched her fingers and her thighs, and he remained where he was. He went on kissing her as she came down a bit, dropping kisses into her folds and above them, sending soft, delicious laps of pleasure through her to follow the tidal wave before them. He moved gradually away, pressing kisses to her inner thigh before resting his cheek there for a moment.

“Rummond,” she said, giving his hair a last, more gentle tug, and he looked up at her. She beckoned him with a curl of her fingers. “Come here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid:  
> [Belle's getaway dress](https://78.media.tumblr.com/a66e3cd1d751e189446b467a7f8ad1b2/tumblr_p6qmvwcuXr1uvepcao3_r1_1280.jpg)


	3. And the Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompts - _noora7 said: Sooooo you probably already have these (also these are mega late thanks to my shite tumblr mobile app) but I have smut prompts for your BtFtB wedding/honeymoon/please never end this story my Fridays are so empty without it :) Pretty standard stuff to be fair - going down on each other & _[other half in next chapter ;)] __
> 
> _Anonymous said: BtFtB prompt (ish?): ~~Rummond is a bit sad that he's still not deemed well enough for discharge and~~ Belle decides to cheer him up by attempting fellatio (maybe she read about it somewhere?) - bonus points if it's the first time for both of them!]_

Belle’s head lay pillowed on his chest, her hair sprawled wild over them both with the early morning sunlight caught and glowing in it. He touched her hand where it draped over and rested on the other side of him, tracing the lines and dimples of her knuckles and the matching gold of her wedding and engagement rings. She took a waking breath and her hand rose up under his palm. Smiling, trying to gently to rouse her, Rummond slipped his fingertips between her fingers, stroking the skin where they divided.

The train was still moving, still rocking gently. It had started on its way in the middle of their lovemaking the night before. That had been a new and slightly peculiar experience. Judging by the time, however, they should have been getting reasonably close to the station at Antibes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, pressing a kiss near her forehead. 

Turning her face, she rubbed her nose against him and mumbled, “Mm, no, not yet.”

“You can try, but I’m not certain even you can make the sun go back down, love.”

She grumbled softly, shifting a bit, and moved so that she could look up at him. “What time is it?”

“Few minutes past seven.” Rummond brushed a wild curl of dark auburn hair away from her eyes with the hand not occupied with her own. “How do you feel about breakfast in the dining car?”

“We haven’t anything left here, have we?” she asked.

“I believe there may be half a cup of tea and a bit of that cheese with the streak through?”

“Then I feel quite optimistic about it.”

They’d eaten late in their suite the previous night. The drive had been long and the ferry ride even longer, and though Mrs. Potts had packed a basket for them, its contents only lasted for so long in their stomachs. By the time they’d arrived at the train, dinner was being prepared for the dining car. And by the time they’d unwrapped from one another, it was well past. Rummond had flagged down the porter from their car in the narrow corridor and asked whether they might be allowed something from the kitchen. The porter, a kind little man, had brought them a tray with enough to last them ’til the morning.

“We might have arrived by the time we finish eating,” he said, letting his hands slide away from his wife as she sat up. 

Belle scooted to the end of the bed, taking a great deal of the sheet with her. She leaned to retrieve her underthings from the floor. Rummond moved up next to her to sit on the edge of the bed for a moment before he began sorting out his own things. They had put their clothes over the chairs when they’d taken a little while to eat the night before. It was a good thing; while she had another outfit in her case, he relied on the suit he’d worn away, having only had a fresh button-down at hand. The rest of their clothing was in the stowed luggage. 

After trading the washroom to Rummond once her morning ablutions were out of the way, she made a quick inspection and decided it best to opt for a fresh pair of drawers. On her way up from her case, she caught Rummond only just pulling his own drawers up, and she caught a lovely view of his backside. She grinned to herself. It was a view that she would get to indulge in a great deal of now.

Belle dressed quickly in her summer skirt and blouse. It was a smidge warmer in the South of France than back home. Sitting down on the bed, she brushed through her hair while watching her husband finish getting ready.

She took her hairpins from the small table beneath the windows and went to stand a bit to one side of Rummond while he combed his hair in front of the washroom mirror. Gathering the length of her own back and giving it a twist, she pushed it forward a little to provide a tad of puff around it.

“Here,” he said, steering her gently in front of him so that she could see properly. “You need more of the mirror than I do.”

Belle gave him a smile in the reflection, and he leaned to brush a kiss over her cheek. 

She pinned her hair up in a soft bun and went back to put on her shoes while Rummond fiddled with his braces and got into his waistcoat. He helped her to pack the rest of their things away again. 

“Ready?” he asked as he set their overnight cases near the door.

“Ready,” she confirmed, taking his arm and stepping into the corridor with him. “Breakfast, and then hopefully the station immediately thereafter.”

He looked over at her, smiling as she went through their plans for the morning. “And then?”

“Then the hotel,” Belle said cheerfully and tucked herself close to his side as they walked. “Which will have a much nicer bed. And thicker walls.”

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ 

It was only a fifteen minute trip by hired car, going from the Antibes Railway Station to Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc, and not quite nine o’clock when they checked in. Using the telephone at the desk, they took a few moments to call and ask after Neal while the bellman took their luggage up to their room.

“How is our boy?” Belle asked when Mrs. Potts picked up.

After an initial, “Well, hello to you, too!” Mrs. Potts informed them that Neal was doing very well, considering. “His upset is a bit on and off, but he marked a great red slash through yesterday’s date on the calendar in the kitchen last night before going to bed. Which, I don’t mind telling you, he was sleeping soundly in each and every time I peeked in on him.”

Belle smiled, beyond glad that he didn’t seem to have had trouble sleeping. “Is he awake?”

“Not just yet. Thought I’d let him have a late morning and take him and Chip to the playground,” Mrs. Potts said. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Belle agreed. She looked to her husband, who looked very much as though he wished to talk, as well. “Rummond would like to have a word,” she said and offered the handset to him.

“Neal is all right?” he asked.

“The pair of you are a fine fit!” Mrs. Potts muttered. She gave him a bit of a sarcastic, “Hello, how are you? Me? Oh, I’m peachy, myself!”

“Ah…” He looked to Belle, feeling chastised. The snicker she smothered said that she knew just what he’d heard. “We’re well. We’ve just arrived at the hotel. And you, Mrs. Potts?”

“I’m just fine. In the middle of making a batch of biscuits, matter of fact.” There was a second of silence before Mrs. Potts went on. “Neal is doing well. As I told Belle, he’s been a little upset on and off, but he’s been easy to distract from it. He slept well, no bad dreams, nothing like that. I’ll be taking him and Chip to the playground today, as well.”

“He’ll enjoy that.” Rummond leaned his side against the hotel desk, relieved. “I meant to tell you before we left, but everything was a bit fraught and we were on the late side - if you’ll speak with Dove, he’ll help you and Christopher move your things anytime you like.”

“I’ll do just that,” she said. “Thought we’d have ourselves all moved the day before you’re to come back home, if that’s all right.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Mrs. Potts,” Rummond agreed. “Belle, ah- here’s Belle to talk to you again,” he said as she reached for the handset.

“There’s a room upstairs we’d like you to have,” Belle told her. “Mr. Dove knows which it is. And Chip should have one of the children’s bedrooms upstairs, as well. There’s no sense in them sitting empty.”

Mrs. Potts sounded a bit flustered when she spoke again. “I’ll ask Mr. Dove about which rooms they are, then.”

“I think someone else is hinting they’re waiting for the telephone. Perhaps don’t tell Neal we’ve called?” Belle suggested, noticing as a gentleman next to her at the desk gave the telephone an impatient look. “It might upset him he missed us. We’ll call him later on this evening, as we told him.”

“As far as he’ll know, your first call will be tonight,” Mrs. Potts said. “You have fun, dear.”

“Thank you!” Belle said, and she placed the handset back on the cradle. No sooner had she finished than the man reached over and took the telephone by its stalk, setting it in front of himself.

She listened to Rummond jingling the key in his hand as they made their way to the lift and went up to their floor. It was a short walk to their room from the lift, and so early that they saw few other guests on the way.

The hotel was on the water, and their room had a balcony and a spectacular view. There was a dining area on the balcony and a sitting area inside with a tea table and two chairs, as well as a writing desk between two wide sets of balcony doors. The bedroom was nice and spacious, and a great fireplace dominated one wall. It was everything that Belle had hoped for out of a hotel on the French Riviera. 

When they went inside, their things had been neatly moved from the luggage cart. Their bags and cases were lined up near the foot of the bed and their pair of garment bags hung from the top of the armoire. 

“I can send in a maid to help put your things away, if you like,” the bellman offered in heavily accented English.

“No, thank you,” Belle said as Rummond gave the man a tip. “We’re all right putting it all away.”

The bellman nodded politely. After he left, Belle added, “And it can all stay right where it is for a little longer.”

“Not in the unpacking mood?” Rummond asked.

“What do you think of having a nap?” she asked by way of an answer. “A few more hours of sleep, and then we’ll go and find a café to have lunch at?”

They hadn’t gotten _that_ much sleep on the train, for reasons that lay in one another. It had been well into the wee hours before they’d fallen asleep. Which meant that the hotel bed looked far better than anything that could lure them out into the city just then.

“You know, I like that idea very much,” he said, apparently liking it enough that he began undressing with no more encouragement. He lay his jacket over their bags and folded his waistcoat on top. “We’ll spend half our time getting in and out of clothes.”

“We’ll simply have to find a stretch of time staying in or out of them,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I know which I’d prefer.”

Rummond chuckled. He coiled his tie around his hand and placed it on the bedside table, getting out of the rest of his suit and shirt before sitting down on the side of the bed nearest him.

She stepped over to drape her skirt and blouse over the highback armchair that sat to one side of the fireplace, following it with her slip. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, she removed her brassiere and gave it a toss in the chair’s direction. When she reached for her stockings, she heard Rummond make a small noise.

Looking over, she caught an expression on his face. “What is it?”

He shook his head a little, a shy smile tugging at his mouth.

Belle turned and crawled across the bed to him in only her stockings and drawers. He gave her legs a more lingering look.

“My stockings?” she said, and his cheeks flushed. That was it, then. “You want me to keep them on?”

“Would you?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.” She smiled, tickled to know his little predilection. 

Kneeling up in the soft blankets, she untied the ribbon at the side of her drawers and let them fall down her thighs to pool around her knees on the blanket. With a bit of wriggling, she had them off. She advanced on him, then moved past him to stretch herself out on the bed behind him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she told him. “Come here.”

It took him less than a moment to get out of his underthings and back onto the bed with her. Rummond eased himself on top of her, resting on his forearms, and she opened her legs, steepling them so that he could lie in the cradle of them.

“You like the way my stockings feel?” she asked, pulling one of her legs up a bit more, rubbing her calf along the side of his thigh. 

Rummond nodded, and she could practically feel the warmth radiating from his face. She ran her hands down over his shoulders and curled them behind his upper arms, drawing him down closer until his belly pressed against her own. She could feel the heat of his arousal, the insistence of it rising up against her. They were tired, both of them, and she knew that it wouldn’t be the most intense lovemaking they’d had. They had been together in drowsy circumstances before, though. She remembered how lovely and comforting it could be.

Through their work on the house - and his insistence on helping where his leg would allow - he’d gained back a bit more muscle, and through continued eating well, a bit more fat. There was no more gauntness left to his body, no ribs that showed themselves through his skin. He had filled out near the shape she’d seen him in the newsreels. It made her happy to see him thriving so. She’d always loved getting her hands on him and her arms around him, and he felt all the more pleasing to hold onto.

Rummond closed his eyes, leaning to kiss her neck. He pressed a string of kisses up the side and along the line of her jaw until he reached her mouth. Their kiss was a slow one, filled with brushed noses and smiles and breath, and it made his heart pound. He closed his throat to cut off a groan when she brought her legs closer, her garters rubbing over his hips as she did.

He loved the feeling of her stockinged legs sliding along his bare skin, and he couldn’t put a finger on just why. He felt the softness of the silk at his sides as she drew her legs higher. Belle laughed into his mouth when his hips jerked against her on on their own at the feeling of her feet sliding along the backs of his thighs. 

“I’m ready,” she said with a nod when he pulled back to look at her.

Rummond leaned his weight onto his left arm and slipped a hand between them, first touching her to make certain that she was wet enough to ease his way in. Her eyelids fluttered a little as his fingertips grazed gently along her entrance. He took himself in hand, pushing it down from where it rested in the soft crease of her thigh, and guided himself into her. The deeper breath she took when he pressed inside and the sigh that came just after it would always send a satisfying wave of heat down through his belly. 

Belle wasn’t sure whether the thumping she felt against her breastbone was her own heart or her husband’s, but it didn’t matter. The beat was the same, the rhythms feeling matched so well that she couldn’t tell one from the other, and the thought of it made a warmth rise behind her eyes. She moved a hand from his arm and threaded her fingers into his hair to pull him down to her for another kiss. He had to allow his arms to bend a bit more to rest as close as she wanted, and he turned them, sliding his hands palm up behind her. The warmth of holding him inside her and of his hands spread wide across her upper back seemed to flood her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper.

His thrusts were slow and short, she held him so tightly, and she felt his rhythm quicken and his muscles tense and shake as he grew close. She could feel her own climax building more gradually. It wouldn’t be fast enough to finish with him, as they were going.

With a thought she’d had often and never before acted upon, she took her hand from his other arm and slid it down between them to touch the place where they joined. With her fingers positioned just right, she could feel both of their bodies as they moved together. Rummond pressed his face against her neck, nipping at the curve of it, and she knew that he felt what she did. The sensation of it - of her own wetness and of him sliding in and out of her - sent her from slowly building higher to tipping right over the edge, and her orgasm washed through her.

Her legs clenched tight around Rummond and his hips stuttered before he finally buried himself deep inside her, pressing his mouth against her neck and gasping out his pleasure.

Belle combed her fingers through the hair at his nape, enjoying the feeling of his breath across her collarbones when he turned his head. After a few moments, he rolled carefully off her and lay at her side. 

“That should make for a nice nap.” She smiled, turning over to face him. “I don’t think there’s a part of me that _isn’t_ sleepy now.”

Rummond leaned to catch her bottom lip with a languid, lingering kiss. “Perhaps we won’t sleep through lunch?”

She shrugged the shoulder not resting against the mattress. “There’s always room service.”

Belle wrapped her arms around him, draping one stockinged leg across the side of his waist. He curled an arm around her, bringing her closer and bringing one of his legs up between her own, effectively tangling them. She tucked her head beneath his chin and closed her eyes.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

In the first week of their honeymoon, they explored the parts of the city nearest the hotel. It was beautiful and not terribly overcrowded, owing to the end of summer. The weather was ideal for walking around. Belle only needed something for her shoulders early in the morning or late in the evening, which was more than she could say for the weather back home. 

There were all manner of boutiques, of course. They’d bought a good many pieces of clothing for Belle, and a good many for Neal early in the week, and she’d even managed to talk Rummond into a few things for himself. There was a large toy shop across the way from the lingerie boutique he had blushed his way through on that first Thursday, and they spent a solid hour choosing this and that and deciding what would appeal most to their son.

On their first Friday afternoon, she spotted a _brasserie_ that looked like an ideal place to rest and eat tea. They had later reservations for dinner and tickets to a play afterward. Plans in between tea and dinner were rather nebulous, but did include a return of some undetermined amount of time to their room.

Next to the _brasserie,_ Belle was thrilled to catch sight of a watch shop. Rummond had spent the early part of the afternoon in something very near heaven. The shop sold not only timepieces, but supplies, as well. Rummond, thinking of his own future shop, bought all manner of parts and cases and tools to hold as stock until it was ready. Belle was prepared to translate with the proprietor, as she’d stepped in to do for Rummond all week, when he began speaking French with the elderly little man as fluently as she’d ever heard outside of the country. He didn’t notice how she gawped at him for a few moments before recovering from her shock.

The proprietor offered to ship his purchases back to England, if he liked. It was an ideal arrangement that would keep them from having to carry it all home with them. When they left the watch shop, Belle fully intended on going right over to eat and grill her husband about his knowledge of the French language. They had yet to turn away from the shop door, however, when a woman of around Mrs. Potts’ age stopped in front of her. 

“What a lovely shawl,” the woman complimented in an accent neither local nor familiar. “Did you buy it somewhere nearby?”

“Thank you.” Belle smiled and shook her head, automatically reaching up to touch the cut velvet shawl she’d left the hotel with that morning. “Oh, no, it’s years old. I found it in a shop in London.”

“That’s my bad luck, then, I suppose.” The woman tutted in her disappointment. “Ah, well. You tell your father here to buy you more pretty things, eh?”

“This is my husband,” Belle corrected immediately. She leaned into Rummond’s side, tightening her hold on his arm. “We’re on our honeymoon, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh! Oh, my mistake.” The woman nodded, not missing a beat as she changed her assumption to fit her advice. “Have your husband buy you more pretty things!”

Rummond touched his hat politely as the woman passed by them, but he fell silent. His entire mien changed from the excitement he’d found in the watch shop. Belle decided to forego tea for the afternoon; they could return to the nice little _brasserie_ tomorrow. Getting Rummond back to the hotel was suddenly far more important.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Rummond asked when they got back to their room. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands fidgeting on his lap. “That I’m so much older than you?”

Belle pulled her shawl from her shoulders and laid it on the end of the bed. She nudged her way into standing between her husband’s knees and took his face between her hands, tilting his head up to look at her.

“It doesn’t matter.” Leaning down, she brushed a kiss over his lips. “It never mattered.”

“Don’t you think about-?”

“Rarely. Only when someone like that allows their tongue to go flapping loose.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t tell me if you did.”

“No, likely not,” she admitted. “Because it hasn’t a thing at all to do with how much I love you.”

Rummond reached up to take one of her hands in his, pressing a kiss to her palm and holding it there for a moment. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. And I deserve you. In all the best of ways,” Belle told him, then gave him a grin and teased, “You aren’t getting rid of me now, anyway. I have you legally.” 

He breathed a soft laugh, and she dropped a kiss on his forehead before stepping back. She crossed to the dresser, where their underthings and nightclothes were, and took a package wrapped in white paper from the bottom drawer. 

“Stay just where you are,” she said. “I’ll be back out in a moment.”

Belle went into the washroom, switching the light on and closing the door behind her. She’d bought a pretty, wispy silk negligee while out shopping with Ruby in the weeks before the wedding. She had been looking for an occasion to wear it but hadn’t yet had the chance. When they headed toward getting intimate, she generally had neither the time nor the desire to put a hold on things long enough to change into something that she would only take off immediately. Today, however, she was ready to indulge in not only the piece of lingerie, but a bit of something else she’d been putting a hold on, as well.

Her camisole and brassiere she dispensed with, but she left the pair of fluttery silk drawers she wore where they were. Hurriedly searching out the pins in her hair, she took it down and shook it loose. She walked back into the bedroom with the negligee open so that it streamed down from her shoulders, framing precisely what she wanted it to.

Belle wasn’t certain which felt better - the look on his face when she’d walked into their back garden in her wedding dress or the way his mouth dropped open when she came out of the washroom. Either way, she was _fairly_ certain that the entire age concern had been wiped from his thoughts.

She stopped in front of him and took his hands, urging him to his feet. Taking his cane and propping it out of the way against the bedside table, she began pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Still enjoying his view of her bare breasts, Rummond shrugged his jacket back and off his arms, then started to unbutton his waistcoat.

Belle gently pushed his hands away. “Let me,” she told him. “You just watch this time.”

She made quick work of his waistcoat buttons and slid her hands in under the shoulders, catching his braces with her fingers to push them back at the same time. His shirt soon followed, and she caught a smile in the corners of his mouth when she reached to undo his trousers. A sensual undressing wasn’t her aim this time. She simply wanted him out of his clothes.

“Lie down,” Belle told him with a grin after they managed to get him out of his undershirt.

Rummond sat and pushed his shoes off, and his trousers and drawers slid off his feet with them. She walked to the other side of the bed, trailing the train of her negligee behind her and aware of his eyes on her all the while, and climbed up beside him so that she would have plenty of room to kneel there. 

She rested a hand in the middle of his chest as she leaned down to kiss him. Rummond covered her hand with his, stroking his thumb along her fingers until she pulled back to kiss his jaw. Nuzzling into the soft area beneath it, she pressed a kiss there, as well, and made her way down his neck to his chest.

“Belle?” he murmured, the timbre of his voice making it clear that he was enjoying her kisses. His hand moved to curl over top of her thigh.

She dropped kisses along the middle of his stomach, watching the way it rose and fell with his breaths. His skin was delightfully warm. She ran her hand slowly across his abdomen, and it wasn’t until she brushed the first kiss south of his navel that he gave her a suspicious look.

“Belle, what are you doing?”

She raised up enough to see his face for a moment, more than a little mischief in her smile. “Does it take that much puzzling out?”

Scooting down a bit, Belle bent forward to press a pair of kisses to his thigh. Looking down just a little farther, she was pleased to find that he was responding _very_ well.

Rummond grabbed a handful of her negligee. “Belle, you needn’t-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” she told him, looking up at him from the vicinity of his hip. “I’ve wanted to for a good, long while.”

He visibly gulped and dropped his head back onto the pillow again, returning his hand to her thigh. She felt his gaze remain on her.

She’d touched him before, but it seemed different this time. She had different intentions behind her touches. The wide sleeve of her negligee draped over his thigh when she wrapped her hand around him. Holding him a bit snug, she moved her hand up and down his length, and she felt him increase slightly more. The gasp he gave when she swept the pad of her thumb across the head sent a thrill through her belly.

Belle savored the heat and weight of him as he grew thicker against the palm of her hand. Her husband made quiet sounds. They first slipped out along with each breath, and before long she heard a choked moan. There was a soft grunt from him as she eased his foreskin back once more, spurring her on. She was determined to draw _sound_ out of him.

Gathering her hair out of the way over her other shoulder with her free hand, she leaned down to press her lips to the head. Rummond’s breath trembled. She smiled, giving him a long lick across with the broad of her tongue, and heard him pull in another gasp. His hand, still on her thigh, flexed and tightened against her, and her hair swept forward against the outside of his thigh when she leaned farther down to lick the underside of him. 

“God… Belle…” he huffed on two quick breaths out.

She smiled up at him before opening her mouth and taking the head in, and his other hand gathered a fistful of the blanket beside him. Belle moved in small increments, up and down, not taking him too far because she was fairly certain that he would have her stop if she happened to hit the wrong area of her mouth and made herself gag. 

She wasn’t sure how long he would last. Anticipating the way his hips hitched when he was close, she pressed her free hand firmly against his abdomen. Rummond downright whimpered.

“Belle,” he said urgently, his voice thin. He patted at her thigh. “Belle- oh, God. Move, love, I-”

His hips shuddered and she took it as warning. Not a second later, he climaxed, and the taste - salty and earthy and more or less what she expected - flooded her mouth. The pulses of it slowed and seemed to stop, and she pulled away. She swallowed it back before returning her mouth to him, licking a rivulet that ran toward her hand before taking the head into her mouth again. Wanting to give him sensation to carry him through the fading of his orgasm, she sucked more gently at him than before, knowing how sensitive she was just after she finished. 

When Rummond pleasured her on the train, he’d kissed her body afterward. She followed his example. She kissed low on his abdomen, just at the base of him, and dropped another just a bit higher. Taking her hand from him, she sat back for a moment before stretching out along the length of his body. Glassy eyed and breathless, he turned onto his side to face her. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her close against him. She felt giddy, herself. 

“Belle… thank you,” he said with not a little bewilderment in his voice, resting his head near hers on the pillow. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I enjoyed doing that,” she told him, lifting the hand that wasn’t effectively pinned beneath her to touch his face. She ran her fingertips along his cheekbone before settling her hand in the curve between his neck and shoulder. “And I’ll do it again, first urge I get.”

He looked at her with such warmth and love that it made her toes wriggle. Belle had to consciously keep herself from squirming. She hadn’t anticipated the effect that what she’d done for Rummond would have on _her._ It was the definition of frustration. He wasn’t ready again yet, and she wanted him more than she could wrap her thoughts around.

“I have a question,” she said, trying to keep her head clear. “Where in heaven’s name did you learn French?”

Rummond laughed in surprise at her question. “I was stationed in France for five years.”

“Yes, but you _speak_ French,” Belle pointed out. “Very well. I know for a fact that not every serviceman stationed there learned to speak the language.”

“I have an ear for languages?”

“An ear for languages?” She rose up on her elbow. “Plural? You speak others?”

“Italian. German. I’ve been stationed all over,” he said. “I learnt Dutch during the Second Boer War. Spent the time almost solidly on ships, though, so it always was a bit spotty.”

“Spotty.” She gaped at him. “How did I not know that you know them?”

He grinned up at her. “Never had occasion to speak anything save English at home.”

Belle gave his arm an affectionate swat and collapsed beside him again. She tucked her legs close against him. Rummond leaned to kiss her, unexpected and sweet, and she found herself clinging to him before they had to part to breathe.

“Mm, hello again,” she said, her smile just a tad smug over the way a certain part of her husband rested heavy against her thigh.

She turned onto her back and slipped her arms out of her negligee, leaving it beneath her, and got her drawers most of the way down before kicking them off her feet. “I believe we can get in at least one more romp before dinner,” she said, crooking her finger playfully at him. 

_“‘Romp,’”_ Rummond echoed with a soft, amused snort, before he obeyed her beckoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid:  
> [Belle's negligee](https://78.media.tumblr.com/71cede391eb0ec701ef15a2a40c40464/tumblr_p6qmvwcuXr1uvepcao2_r1_1280.jpg)


	4. This Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompts - _noora7 said: Belle being on top (I imagine Rummond will enjoy those lol). Oh oh also Rum being very expressive about how much he wants Belle because let's face it she deserves to finally get that :)_
> 
>  _Anonymous said: I'm madly in love with your Better to Face the bullet verse and have a prompt for One heart Beat honeymoon verse. Since they have decided to not use protection and try for pregnancy, could we possibly get Rummond rubbing a sleeping Belle's stomach wondering if they made a baby after a night of making love._ ]

The number connected and picked up on the second ring. Rummond heard Mrs. Potts’ voice as though it came a good distance from the telephone. “How can you be certain that’s your parents? You’re meant to let an adult answer, dear!”

“But it’s always Papa and Mama right now!” Neal replied before actually speaking to them. “Hi Papa! Hi Mama!”

“Hello, duckling,” Rummond said, having to work to not laugh. “How was your day?”

They were on their way out to dinner later than usual, having been delayed by a somewhat accidental nap following a bit of private excitement in the afternoon. There were no reservations planned for the evening; Belle had suggested earlier in the morning that they have a look at the smaller restaurants nearby when dinner came around. It turned out to be a good thing.

“Morraine brought her pet canaries to school to show everybody!” Neal announced cheerfully. “Jill Horner opened the door on the cage even though we were told not to touch it, and she let one out, but Mrs. Lapointe caught it and put it back. It was okay, but Morraine is angry with Jill now.”

“Sounds as if you had a big day at school,” Belle said, having leaned her head close to Rummond’s so that she could hear. “What else did you do today, darling?”

Neal hummed thoughtfully, drawing the sound out for a moment. “Oh! Horatio took me and Mrs. Potts to our house after school to move some clothes and I saw a rabbit in the front garden!”

“How exciting!” Belle traded a grin with her husband. “That’s our first garden rabbit sighting, isn’t it?”

“It is!” Neal chirped. “It was _so_ big, too. Horatio said she might be about to have babies.”

Rummond and Belle passed a knowing look between them. There would be a discussion with their son regarding life someday soon, and they both knew it.

“We’ll have to keep an eye out for them, then,” Rummond told him.

“Do you think she would let me have one when they’re born, Papa?” Neal asked.

“Mrs. Potts?”

“No, the mama rabbit!”

“Oh, darling, that mama rabbit will want her babies with her,” Belle explained.

Neal made a disappointed little sound, but he said, “I don’t want to take away one of her babies.”

“They’ll be all right outdoors,” she assured him. “You can always visit them.”

He seemed a bit comforted by that. “When will you and Papa come home?”

“Only four more days, now,” Rummond said. Neal asked the same every evening, and every evening one or the other of them gave him the update. “Transportation willing, we’ll be home on the night of the eighteenth. You’ve still been crossing off days on the calendar?”

“Every night before tuck-in,” Neal said. “I miss you.”

“We miss you, too,” Belle told him. “We’ll be back home soon.”

They wished one another a series of lengthy farewells and goodnights, and Neal at last surrendered to Mrs. Potts hanging up the telephone so that he could go to bed.

“It might be time to get him some manner of indoor pet,” Rummond suggested. “Something that he won’t have to worry about leaving its family.”

She smiled up at him and curled her hand in the bend of his elbow as they crossed the hotel foyer. “I have a feeling he’ll wonder about that regardless of the animal.”

Their walk to the small string of restaurants down the road was occupied with a discussion on the merits of dogs versus cats and which might be a better fit for Neal and their household as a whole. They’d come to no true conclusion when a quiet, calm little café drew them in.

A waiter met them as they walked in and he seated them at a window near the back, overlooking the shore. He recited the evening’s menu for them and took their orders before leaving them to themselves. The part of the shore that they could see was almost empty, late as it was. It was a lovely view, though.

Rummond laid his hand palm up on the table in offering, and she reached across to meet him, placing her own in it. While they waited, they chatted idly about this and that. The marmalade that had come along with their room service breakfast that morning and how, despite the fact that Mrs. Potts wouldn’t approve of the width of the orange slices, it was the best either of them had ever had. The bravery of a pair of girls who had gone out on the beach the afternoon before in bathing suits without skirts on them. The small herd of Camargue horses they’d seen running and splashing about during a day tour of the marshes. 

And as her husband pointed out the streetlamps being turned on outside, it occurred to Belle how absolutely splendid everything was in that moment. Everything had seemed to come together. She had Rummond with her, she had Neal back home, and she didn’t believe any of them would ever get over the happiness they’d stumbled upon in one another. She had a home _of her own_ back home that she was so proud of she could have burst with it, and the same went for her family. She was sitting on a position in the medical college that she’d coveted since her earliest days of nursing. Yes, ‘splendid’ was the right word, and she was tempted to call it perfect.

Rummond played with her bracelet as they talked. It was a delicate, gold filigree bangle with subtle etching that he’d bought for her in a boutique that morning. She hadn’t taken it off since he’d slipped it onto her wrist. While it _was_ beautiful and she adored it, Belle was also quite certain that he’d bought it for her at least in part because he enjoyed the way it felt against his own hand 

His fingertips skipped across the thin bit of metal to touch her wrist on either side of it, the warmth of his touch making her skin tingle. The longer he did it, the more warmth gathered in her belly, as well. It was distracting, to say the least, and she thought she only caught around half of what he was saying about the birds they had found on the balcony when they’d awakened from their late nap. But he was content and she enjoyed the innocent diversion of his touches. She was almost disappointed when their food arrived and they took their hands back.

After dinner, the chef sent out _canelés_ for dessert. Belle decided to pay Rummond back in kind for his interest in her bracelet and wrist, and she pushed one of her shoes off beneath the table. Between bites, she ran her stockinged toes along his ankle.

Rummond startled, giving her a bit of a shocked look, and her hand flew to her mouth to cover her own surprised laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she began.

“No, I-” A flush crept into his cheeks along with a broad smile. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Belle chanced trying again, stroking her toes against the side of his ankle. His smile softened, though the pink in his face deepened a little. She continued while they finished their desserts and coffee, only putting her shoe back on when he began sorting out the bill.

The walk back to their hotel was as nice as the one out from it. She slipped her arm through Rummond’s, tucking herself close against his side in the cool evening air. There was only a bare sliver of moon in the sky, and though the streetlamps made it more difficult to see the stars, they easily lit the way. 

“What do you think of hiring more house staff?” Rummond asked after they passed a young man in a hall boy’s suit apparently walking someone’s small dog. 

“We’ll need to on the sooner side of eventually,” she said. “We’ve Mrs. Potts and Dove, but they can’t handle an entire household by themselves.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t tell Mrs. Potts that.”

“She’d take it as a challenge,” Belle agreed. 

“We won’t need a _large_ staff. Just enough to look after you and Neal.” He looked to her as they neared the path up to the hotel. “Right?”

“And you,” she added firmly. “But no, I suppose nothing terribly extensive. We aren’t a great house.”

They made their way into the hotel and she leaned against him on the elevator ride up. The entire hotel seemed to go quiet after a certain time of evening, everything turning sedate and comfortable. Their floor was silent as they went back down the corridor to their suite. Rummond took the key from his pocket and opened their door, letting her in before him.

Belle waited as he locked the door again, and when he turned to her, she pressed herself close. Looping her arms about his neck, she rose up onto her toes to steal a kiss. She expected him to pursue for another kiss as she set her heels on the floor again, but he leaned in further, nuzzling into the side of her neck.

“You aren’t too tired?” she teased. “After the long walk? And full of dinner?”

“What, do you think me an old man?” he asked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

Belle beamed, tickled to hear the defense of his spryness after the almost-tumult they’d had early in their trip over a careless stranger’s remark. Her smile turned a little saucy and she shrugged off her cardigan in the suite entryway. She tossed it at Rummond before backing slowly away. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, laying her cardigan over the back of the sofa as he passed it.

Without a word, she turned and ran toward the bedroom.

“Oh, now, how’s that fair?” he called after her, laughing. “How am I meant to give chase?”

She stuck her head out from around the doorframe. “I might just let you catch me.”

Belle had the bedroom lamps turned on, and she stood at the near side of the bed when he went in, already unbuttoning her blouse. She stepped out of her shoes and slipped open the button at the side of her skirt, quickly leaving herself in only her underthings and the string of knotted pearls that he’d given her. 

He got rid of his jacket and waistcoat, and he’d started to loosen his tie when she stepped out of the puddle of her skirts. She smirked at him and took a step backward, toward the foot of the bed, daring him.

Rummond smiled. Her body language was still taut, as though she meant to run again. She didn’t move when he took a couple of steps toward her, though. Belle only turned away when he was well within arm’s length of her. He reached out, catching an arm around her waist and pulling her back to his front. It sent him a bit off balance and Belle shrieked with laughter as he dropped his cane next to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and bringing her into his lap as he did.

She shifted sideways, so that she could drape her arms around his neck. “You caught me. Now, what are you going to do with me?”

He rested a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking above it. “You’ll have to give me time to think about that.”

Rummond looked down, feeling something almost slippery on her skin, and he noticed something that he hadn’t before getting her into his lap. He rubbed his hand over her knee above her stocking and turned it over to look. Something pink transferred from her skin to his palm. He squinted at her legs, then gave her a curious look.

Belle laughed again, more quietly this time. She’d forgotten. She had taken the silly compact that Ruby had given her, rouging her knees before they’d gone out to dinner, shaking her head at herself as she did it.

“It’s rouge,” she told him, and she explained what her friend had told her at their engagement party months before. 

Rummond shook his head, smiling up at her. “Well, you may inform Nurse Lucas that I’ve no need of rouge to find my wife alluring.”

“I did try to explain that,” she said with a grin.

His hand returned to her knee, then moved to the side before he slid it slowly up the inside of her thigh, into the loose leg of her drawers. Belle’s heart thumped harder as his fingertips skirted along the crease of her thigh. 

“All I need is you, yourself,” Rummond said as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I don’t need rouge on any part of you to make me want you. I always want you.”

Her breath began to go short with anticipation as she felt his fingers brush against her, searching gently. She gave him a deep sigh as he at last slid his middle and ring fingers inside her. 

“And I want my husband.” She drew the arm she had behind him back until she could get her hand into the hair at his nape. 

Rummond’s fingers curled inside her, and he brought them out of her a little ways before sliding them in again. She felt his breath on her skin this time before he spoke. “Mmm, I can tell….”

He brushed the occasional kiss over her shoulder and upper arm as he touched her, his fingers moving so slowly in and out that she thought she might go a bit mad from the frustration of it. She tilted her hips into the motion in an attempt to get more, and he seemed to know when she’d neared the end of her patience. He slid his thumb into place higher up, the pad of it pressing alongside the little bundle of nerves there. She had only a moment to wonder and be thankful that he knew her so well, that he’d learned just where to touch and bring pleasure to her, before her orgasm washed through her.

Rummond wrapped the arm he held his wife with more tightly around her, making certain that she stayed safely on his lap as she tensed against him, rocking against his hand and shuddering as she finished. He waited until she began to relax again to slide his fingers out of her. She moaned softly when he did, and he smiled against her shoulder before tilting his head back to look at her.

He brought his hand out of her drawers carefully, doing his best to keep from touching the silk or her skin more than necessary this time. Looking down at his hand, he rubbed his fingers together, feeling the slickness of her on them, admiring how they glistened before looking up at his wife again. 

Rummond slid his middle and ring fingers along his tongue before closing his mouth around them, and he felt her hand clench tighter in his hair. She watched him as he drew his fingers slowly back out of his mouth, sucking the taste of her from them. He saw her eyes darken, her pupils growing until only a ring of blue surrounded them, and she was no longer simply resting in his lap.

Belle moved half off him, putting one foot on the floor so that she could push him back to lie on the bed before she climbed astride him. She finished pulling the knot out of his tie and took it quickly out of his collar with a hiss of sliding fabric. Belle freed the front straps of his braces and made quick work of his shirt buttons, and sitting back a bit, she undid the front of his trousers. 

“I’m afraid you’ll need to get up to get out of some of it,” she said, reluctant to move off him.

Her husband sat up, shrugging out of his shirt, and she only realized when his cuffs refused to slip off his hands that they’d forgotten his cufflinks. She helped him to fish them out of the buttonholes the long way around and they at last managed to get him out of his shirt and undershirt. She had to move off him for a moment so that he could get rid of his clothing below the waist, but it gave her the chance to divest herself from most of her underthings. When he _had_ stripped of the last of his clothes, she made a distinctly happy sound and urged him to lie back once more so that she could place herself astride his hips again.

Rummond drew a sharp breath when she sat so that her body met his. The heat and softness of her was always the most wonderful feeling, and he allowed his eyes to close to revel in it. 

He felt her lean down, then felt her pearls roll against his chest and stomach just before she kissed him. She nipped purposefully at his lower lip, rolling her hips against him until he gasped into her kiss. There was a delighted smile on her face when she sat back. Rummond reached up, touching her necklace as it slid away from his chest, letting the pearls glide through his fingers. 

Belle, knowing good and well that they were both ready, knelt up a little and reached down to guide him into place. She watched his face, watching the blissful expression that crossed it when she lowered. She took a few moments, enjoying for herself the stretch and the filling that came with taking him into her. When he moved, he first formed his hands to the curve where her hips became her bottom, holding her there while he drew his legs up a bit. She looked over her shoulder to see him steepling them, getting his feet flat on the mattress, and she felt his thighs press against her backside.

She nodded, looking to him again with a grin. She understood what he’d done - it would give him more leverage in their position.

She opened her hands, asking for his, and he laced their fingers together. They figured out a rhythm. Settling into it, his thrusts paired with her movements to meet them bounced her with each completion of the motion, and she couldn’t help giggling at the jar it gave her every time. It didn’t take long for Rummond to join her laughter.

Her pearls, as much as she’d enjoyed the idea of wearing them while they made love, were a distraction as they bounced along with her. Loosening her hands from Rummond’s, she reached up to take them off, and they pulled her hair half down in the process. She turned enough to place them on top of his clothes on the empty side of the bed, where they couldn’t slide away.

“Here,” Rummond said, amusement still lingering at the edges of his voice. “Let’s try this…”

He wrapped his hands tightly about her waist, squeezing her, and it sent a thrill of heat through her all over again. When she rose up as she’d been, he brought her down a little harder against him when their movements met. The extra force in their momentum brought him deeper into her, and she surprised both of them when she cried out at the sensation of it. 

“Belle?” He stopped, his hands now stroking worriedly at her sides. “Are you all right, love? Did I-”

“God, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Do it again.”

Their rhythm was slowed as a result of their newfound piece of it, but the pleasure coiling in her belly somehow built so much more quickly. Rummond brought her down hard onto him perhaps a dozen more times before she found her climax. She leaned into him, resting herself against his chest as it seemed to work its way through her in more violent waves than the first, wringing whimpers from her with each pulse of it.

Rummond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close through her pleasure and using their position to continue thrusting up into her. It didn’t take him long at all to follow, the tightening and releasing of her muscles pulling him along. He groaned, muffling the sound as well as he could, and he was gone, as well.

Belle seemed content to lie curled over top of him, but when he rubbed her back, her skin began to feel chilled under his hands. He patted her, intending to suggest that they get themselves beneath the covers.

She nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, murmuring against his skin, “I love you…”

“I love you,” he told her, then unable to quite yet ask her to move.

Eventually, she began to feel too cold on her own. Once she felt as though she might be able to sit without lolling over onto Rummond again, she sat up and moved off of him. Together they worked the blanket and sheet from beneath them and got themselves under it.

Belle sprawled on her back, having gone as far as she currently could, and Rummond lay on his side next to her for a while. After a few minutes, he shifted down in the bed a little and rested his head on her, his cheek pillowed on her left breast. A moment after that, and tentatively at first, she felt him begin to run his hand almost reverently over her abdomen beneath the covers.

She smiled, lifting her arm to lay it across his shoulders, and ran her nails gently up and down the back of his neck. She knew why he did what he was doing. It didn’t take a great deal of figuring out. He was wondering, the same as she was. 

“I’ve been thinking. We can get away without a housekeeper for now, with Mrs. Potts. She served as our housekeeper, but eventually we may need one,” Belle said, picking up on their earlier discussion again. “But the house is big enough, we’ll need a kitchen maid, a parlor maid, a housemaid, a chambermaid…”

“Good Lord,” he mumbled, and she could feel the vibration against her skin as he spoke. “I know what a house staff entails, but I never did think I’d have one.”

She scritched at the evening scruff that had developed along the line of his jaw, and he gave her a soft moan in return. “We’ll need a driver on the sooner side. And a groundskeeper, as well. There’s far too much garden for us and Mr. Dove to take care of it all.”

“That I’ll admit to, the gardens,” Rummond said. “I’d prefer driving myself, though.”

“There’ll be times when one or the other of us, or Neal, needs to be driven somewhere,” she pointed out. He made a brief noise that told her he accepted her reasoning, so she went on. “And a nanny. Not right now, of course. But again, eventually.”

Rummond was silent for a long moment. “Doesn’t settle well with me,” he told her quietly, “the idea of a nanny raising our children.”

“She won’t be raising them,” Belle said, understanding why he felt so. She didn’t intend to be a distant parent any more than he did. She didn’t think she had it in her to be. “She’ll be there for the hours when the children are at home and we aren’t. Those hours will be few enough, won’t they?”

His hand rubbed over her belly for a moment more before he wrapped his arm around her. “Aye, love, they will.”


	5. Is Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompts - _standbyyourmantis said: Is he gonna manage to carry her across the threshold when they get back home?_
> 
>  _Anonymous said: I think I read somewhere that they used to use massage as a kind of therapy for shell-shock sufferers. Maybe Belle could get out the baby oil...hehehe. Every prompt I think of ends up taking a sharp turn onto the Smut Highway to Sexy-town._ ]

Horatio met them on the Dover side of the strait to give them a drive home. It was later than they’d expected to arrive by a good three hours, the delay owing to a few wild boars refusing to be shooed from the tracks. They had, however, been able to find a way to make good use of the extra time on the train.

Their last call before leaving the hotel had been one to the telephone at their own home. Mrs. Potts had answered, declaring everyone moved in who was expected to do so, and all that the house lacked was the pair of them. They’d estimated their arrival between nine and ten that night, and told Mrs. Potts to expect them as such.

Neal’s message upon being allowed the handset was a simpler one. “Hurry! I’m ready for you be back!” 

It was a relief to pull up to the gate. The feeling of being home, safe in familiar surroundings, was overwhelming. The driver brought their luggage in, taking it through to the master bedroom while they stood in the portico having a hushed discussion regarding thresholds.

“I’ll rephrase, then. You _shouldn’t_ carry me in,” Belle said, giving her husband a patient look. 

His right hand fidgeted around his cane handle. “I want to. I can carry you two steps, love.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Light as you are? I could carry you with one arm,” he teased, a glint in his eye as he saw her relenting.

Belle rolled her eyes and scoffed, turning away from him for an instant before turning back. “Two steps.”

“That’s all I’ll need,” Rummond assured her. He hooked the handle of his cane on the door knocker and slipped his arm around her waist.

She curled an arm over his shoulder, catching her hand at the opposite side of his neck. “If we hurt your leg, Rum, I swear-”

Shifting his weight to his good leg, he bent just enough to get his other arm behind her knees, and she gave a bit of a hop to help him lift her. They did it rather quickly, and he only left their weight on his bad leg for a split second in an attempt to risk it as little as possible. Despite the care he took, the stab of pain that ran through it from ankle to hip was searing. He hid the way his face drew by turning his head away as he stepped sideways through the open front door. 

“Well, I’m glad I stayed awake to see you in, or I’d never have seen the likes of this,” Mrs. Potts said from halfway up the staircase. She stood there in her dressing gown and pincurls, watching them.

“Down,” Belle said, patting his chest. It was lovely, being in his arms, but she couldn’t overcome the worry that he would do himself harm. “Rummond, put me down.”

He bent again as he slid his arm back from beneath her legs so that she could put her feet back on the floor as gently as possible. “My apologies for the hour,” he said, reaching for his cane. 

Belle held onto his arm, first eyeing his leg and then his face when he turned to her again. “We had a bit of a delay,” she told Mrs. Potts, then said more quietly to her husband, “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

Rummond gave her an expression meant to convey that he was fine, but he couldn’t hide how he leaned more heavily on his cane than when they’d arrived. He stood with the weight off his bad leg while Belle explained to Mrs. Potts why they’d come trailing in as late as they had.

Mrs. Potts tutted, crossing her arms under her bosom. “I had to tell Neal a little white lie. Said you’d called and let me know you would be a bit late. Otherwise, he’d have imagined a train crash or some such.”

“Thank you,” Rummond said, smiling gratefully up at her. “His worries do have a habit of running away with him.”

“Neal isn’t still awake, is he?” Belle asked. He shouldn’t, and it would have been best for him to be sound asleep in bed, but she wouldn’t have raised a fuss if she and Rummond got to tuck him in for themselves, either.

Mrs. Potts gave her a knowing grin. “He’s been in bed for hours. I suppose it’s your business, if you wish to disturb the boy.”

“Oh, no, we won’t wake him.” Belle glanced down at Rummond’s leg. “We’ll be retiring before long, ourselves. It’s been a day.”

“All right, then. As for me, I’m going to bed now. I’ve breakfast to start in a few hours. I put Neal in with Christopher for the night,” she said over her shoulder as she headed back upstairs. “Didn’t want to leave him down here in his bedroom alone. Good night, dears.”

Belle waited until Mrs. Potts had disappeared from sight and earshot. She gave her husband a sidelong look. “It isn’t only me, is it? You want to have a peek in on Neal, as well?”

He smiled and leaned close to press a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go check on our boy.”

Rummond followed her up the stairs and to the bedroom nearest Mrs. Potts’ room, both of them moving slowly. The wall lamps in the hallway were switched on, and when Belle opened the door a bit, they could just see the shapes of the children in the bed. 

“Oh, if it wouldn’t wake him…” she whispered, reaching for Rummond’s hand.

“I know.” He gave her hand a little squeeze before reaching out to pull the door quietly shut. “In the morning, though.”

They crept downstairs again, silent as churchmice until they reached the hallway leading to their own bedroom. “We’ll get hold of him in the morning,” Rummond told her. “Give him his presents, make up for the last fortnight until he’s absolutely disgusted with us.”

“I like the sound of that,” Belle said, smiling up at him.

Thanks to Mrs. Potts, the bed had been turned down and the small bedroom fireplace had a low fire built in it to take the chill from the air. The furnace could have accomplished the same well enough on its own, but Belle had to admit that it _was_ nice to come home to the cheer and crackle of a hearth fire. She was only surprised that there were no warmers in the bed. Such was the price they paid for getting in late, she supposed.

What she _hadn’t_ expected were three moving boxes to have taken up residence in the bedroom. She was certain that the boxes hadn’t been there when they left for their honeymoon. While Rummond began undressing for bed, she leaned down to have a look. The contained objects were wrapped each to themselves, and it only took her a moment to remember.

“Books!” she said with a laugh.

They were from the attic - old books, for the most part, that were in delicate shape from being read and re-read over the years of her childhood. She recalled putting them away to keep them from falling apart. 

Belle looked over her shoulder to her husband. “Three more boxes of books.”

“I had a feeling.” He grinned over at her. 

“It doesn’t surprise you?” she asked.

He pulled his undershirt off over his head. “I know you,” he said, muffled softly from inside the cotton material. He dropped the shirt aside, onto the bench at the foot of the bed. “I knew rather early on that you came with hospitals, a delightful streak of intractability, and avalanches of books. If I’d a problem with any of that, it would’ve meant I’d a problem with _you.”_

Belle beamed. Her eyes stung a bit as she crossed over to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him from behind. It was indescribably wonderful to have someone who didn’t snidely and viciously dismiss all of her interests out of hand. She had someone who accepted her from tip to tail, and it was beyond a relief. It was a joy. 

Rummond hummed contentedly, enjoying the way his wife squeezed him before he turned so that he could wrap his arms around her in return. He bowed his head to kiss her, and he received a second kiss when she stole another before could lean back. 

“Blue pajamas?” she asked, smiling fondly up at him.

He grinned, but he didn’t say a word regarding her choice of color. She didn’t seem to have done it purposefully. “I can get my pajamas, love.”

“I’m going for my nightgown, anyway,” Belle told him, and she slipped from his arms to go to the chest of drawers. She got out of her clothes and camisole before fetching a nightgown and his pair of blue pajamas for them.

“I’d say we should just forego them altogether,” she began, turning to give her husband a little smirk. They’d slept often enough in nothing save the bedclothes while they were away. “But I suppose we’re not quite as alone here as we were in the hotel.”

Rummond turned to face her, and as he did, his own smile fell quickly away and he let a pained grunt slip. 

Her grin dissolved into a frown of concern. “Oh, Rum. I knew I shouldn’t’ve let you pick me up.”

“It’s not that,” he said, reaching for the bedpost and holding onto it until he could sit on the bed’s edge. “It isn’t because I carried you. I’ve been doing more than usual, these past few months.”

“And yet, I haven’t heard you complain until this threshold absurdity,” she pointed out.

He gave a quiet grumble, not looking at her.

Belle tossed their nightclothes onto the bed. “Lie down. Right now.”

“My pajamas…” he protested, but he did as she told him.

“You can put on your pajamas in a bit.” She went to their luggage where Horatio had lined it all up to one side of the door. Bending to open her overnight case, she fished out the heavy lotion that she used for her hands and legs.

“What are you up to?” Rummond asked, leaning up on his elbows to look.

She headed back to the bed, unscrewing the top of the jar of lotion. “I’m going to massage your leg.”

“I don’t believe so,” he said, balking at the very idea. “My leg will be just fine by morning.”

“Perhaps, but this is something I’ve wanted to show you for a while now, anyway. It’s been proven that massage alleviates pain. And stress, as well. You could use less of both,” she declared.

“Belle-”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always,” he told her without hesitation.

She rested a knee on the bed near his legs, then turned to sit on her foot there within easy reach. “Then let me try?”

Rummond lay back again. “You’ve read that in one of your medical journals?” he asked with interest. “About pain and stress?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.” Belle scooped a bit of lotion from the jar with her fingers and stretched to set the container on the bedside table. She began rubbing it briskly between her hands to thin and warm it.

His leg flinched when she first placed her hands on it. He watched her carefully as she first ran her hands along his skin, getting him accustomed to her touch there and spreading the lotion. Her fingertips lingered over the old damage, tracing the deeper scars that had come from the bullet and the resulting infection, and the slender ones created by scalpels. She kept her expression as neutral as possible, knowing full well that he watched her face as she touched him. 

She massaged firmly along the tendons, pressing her fingertips into the muscle of his calf as she drew her hands slowly toward his ankle. There were deep knots in the muscles of his leg, and she couldn’t imagine how long they’d been there. She couldn’t do anything about the pain that lingered in the bone, but the muscles, she could work on. Rummond groaned in discomfort as she kneaded hard, rubbing into the knots and feeling as, one by one, they released.

“This is meant to make it _stop_ hurting?” he asked, a bit of strain beneath his voice.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “But I believe it will, to some extent.”

Belle did all that she could for the muscles, and she began to massage his shin, pressing her thumbs along either side of his tibia as she moved them toward his foot. She heard him groan again and she looked up to find his face having gone a bit red.

She stopped, resting her hands on his leg. “Rum? Is it hurting that badly?

“Mm, no, it- it isn’t hurting, as such…”

“What’s the matter, then?”

Rummond brought a hand up to cover his face. “There’s, ah… there’s been an unexpected effect.”

She looked from his face to his leg, and then a bit higher to find that he was filling out the front of his drawers rather well. “Oh,” she said, pressing her lips together so that she didn’t grin too broadly.

“It isn’t as though it’s _that_ sort of sensitive part,” he muttered, obviously flustered.

Belle rubbed the leftover lotion from her hands onto her arms. “Anything can be that sort of sensitive part, if you touch it the right way.”

She illustrated by stroking her hand up his shin once more, over the scars there and to his knee, and he gave another, softer sound.

He dropped his hand to his chest, looking at her. “Now, that was purposeful.”

“Yes,” she said, crawling farther up the bed. “It was.”

Rummond’s flush had moved down his upper chest. She slid down, lying on her side and pressing herself against him, and curled one stockinged leg so that it rested right over the swell in his drawers. Belle felt his hips twitch in response. She ran her hand across his stomach, and she could practically watch the flush spread as she touched him. 

“Help me take this off,” she said, plucking at the strap of her brassiere.

He turned to face her, and his hand left a trail of warmth as he slid it over her ribs and around to her back. It took him a moment to undo the closure, but far less time for her to discard it off the side of the bed. 

“And these…” She moved onto her back and pulled open the ribbon at the side of her drawers, shimmying them down her hips a bit until he sat up to help draw them down her legs. 

Rummond lingered after slipping her drawers off her feet, curling his hand at the back of her left ankle. He slid it up her calf and into the back of her knee before leaning in to rub his cheek against the silk of her stocking. She smiled, reaching down to comb her fingers through his hair. 

“Thank you,” he said as he moved to lay next to her again. “For massaging my leg. I could have withstood the pain.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she told him, stroking the back of her fingers along his cheek. “When you hurt, tell me. You know I’ll do anything I can.”

Rummond tilted toward her, kissing her. He caught her lower lip between his own, sucking gently and running the tip of his tongue along the center of it before breaking the kiss. “I know.”

Rather than leaning away from her, he shifted down enough to bring himself level with her breasts. He cupped his hand against the outer curve of the one farthest from him, grazing the pad of his thumb over her nipple before ducking his head to take it into his mouth and dragging his tongue slowly over it.

The feeling of his mouth on her breast sent a flash of need right through her. She waited, concentrating on every tiny motion he made and the sensations he caused in her, enjoying how what he did made heat pool in her belly.

“Rum,” she said, asking for his attention when she could no longer stand it, “Come here.”

Rummond released the suction he had on her breast, pressing a kiss to the upper curve of it and doing the same to the other before unbuttoning and working his own drawers down. He felt her hand flat against his back when he rested atop her, her fingertips pressing along his spine as he guided himself in and settled his hips against hers, her fingers curling against him when he pulled back and the lovely bite of her short nails into the flesh of his back when he slid back in. 

They built their rhythm easily, by now knowing it by heart. She wrapped her legs around him, cradling him between them and inside her, rolling her hips in union with his thrusts. 

Belle slid her hands back, moving them to cup her husband’s jaw between her palms. “Rummond,” she said, and a hitch of his hips brought a moan of pleasure from her before she could finish speaking. She squeezed her thighs around him. “Rum, look at me.”

His eyes opened to meet hers and she smiled up at him.

“I’m looking,” he answered breathlessly, slowing in response to her. “I see you, love.”

“Do you know what I’d like?” she said, stroking her thumbs against his cheeks. 

His breath came shuddering out of him. “Anything…” 

Belle drew him down to kiss him, nipping at his lower lip and drawing a choked off groan from him. She felt him twitch inside her, and she tightened her legs around him again.

“We’re home, safe. No one else is downstairs,” she began. She could see his need to move in the way the muscles of his shoulders tensed. “I want to feel you let go. I want to hear you.”

“Let go?” he asked, trying to be certain of what she meant. 

Belle scratched her nails gently against the skin of his neck, just below his ears, and she felt him bite back on a whimper. She grinned up at him. “I want to _hear_ you.”

He pulled back when she rolled her hips up into him, thrusting into her and sighing with the feeling of being able to continue. 

“Harder,” she breathed after another thrust. 

Rummond lifted his head to look at her. “What?”

“A little harder, sweetheart,” she said again, nodding to let him know that it was all right.

She felt hesitance in him suddenly, and she moved her hand to curl at the back of his neck, hoping to reassure him.

An apprehensive look crossed his face. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Remember what you did, pulling me down when I was over top of you?” Belle asked, moving her hand to brush his hair back from his face. “Like that, a bit. You aren’t going to hurt me.”

He did as she asked, and after the second, more intense thrust, she arched up against him. She keened at the back of her throat and her legs tightened around him, her feet drawing higher. Her heels slid up from where she pressed them against his thighs, and she crossed her ankles at the small of his back. The sensation of it, her stockinged legs, the pressure of her squeezing around him, knowing the response he’d caused in her, sent him spinning and he was suddenly close.

“Oh, God, _Rum,”_ she gasped, and he knew that she was there, as well. All it took was another hard thrust as she clenched around him. 

Belle’s arms and legs tightened around him until no part of him could pull back. He felt her shudder beneath him, and with another pulse of her inner muscles, she took him with her. Rummond cried out as it went through him, the sound only belatedly muffled as he turned his head so that he could press his face against her neck.

When he could gather a few wits about him again, Belle was petting his hair, murmuring to him how much she loved him and continuing to hold onto him as tightly as she could. He brushed warm kisses across the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, receiving a pleased hum as a reward.

“Love you,” he breathed, lifting his head so that he could look at her. He found her head turned toward him, waiting to meet his eyes, and she smiled at him. “Belle. I love you.”

After a few minutes and more kisses than he could count, he moved carefully off her and started to lean away.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nowhere, love. Just here.”

Rummond kissed her stomach and then her hip as he sat up. He caught his fingertips at the top edge of one of her garters, watching as the elastic stretched delicately as it passed over the widest part of her calf. It slid easily over her ankle and off her foot, and he removed the other just the same before rolling her stockings down. Her garters left marks on her legs, creased little indentations just below her knees. He rubbed gently around the marks left behind, then bowed his head to kiss them.

He moved up next to her again, lying on his stomach, and she turned so that she could drape herself over him. She nuzzled and brushed kisses across the back of his shoulders, enjoying the small sounds of happiness that she drew from him.

Rummond felt her rest her head between his shoulderblades - a warm heaviness that threatened to lull him to sleep.

“Nightclothes,” Belle said after a while.

He turned his head in an attempt to see her. It seemed an incongruous thing to bring up at a time like this. “Hm?”

“You know Neal will be in here the moment he wakes.”

Rummond chuckled. “He will, won’t he?”

“Which makes it a good idea to get into our nightclothes,” she said, and she sat up, reaching for their things at the foot of the bed.

He made a noise of disappointment at the loss of her warmth over him. She quickly returned to him, though, and in much the same position. 

“There,” she said, dropping their things beside the pillow his head lay on, and she rested her own head at the back of his shoulder. “They’re closer now, at least.”

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

There was a particular, unequaled pleasure in awakening still tangled up with her husband, with no worries regarding who might see, no panic over having lingered too long together. Belle closed her eyes again, reveling in how his arms wrapped around her and how their legs crossed up beneath the blankets.

“How does your leg feel?” she asked when she was certain that he was waking, as well. 

He flexed his foot and moved his knee where it was nudged up against her calf. “Bit sore, but still better than before you got your hands on it.”

She smiled and turned over in his arms, facing him. “Perhaps you’ll let me get my hands on your leg more often, now?”

Rummond made a soft, grumbling sound and allowed a tentative, “Perhaps.”

There was barely a knock at the door before Neal hurtled in still wearing his pajamas and threw himself onto his father’s side of the bed. Belle was glad she’d insisted on nightclothes before they fell asleep.

“You said you would be home after dinner!” he accused as he crawled up to place himself between his parents. 

They shifted to give enough room for him, sitting up

Rummond grabbed his son, dragging him over into his lap and kissing his cheek before hugging him soundly. “Well, that’s a fine hello!”

The little boy squealed and wriggled, finally saying, “Hello!” through his laughter.

Belle leaned over, taking her son’s face between her hands and dropping kisses of her own here and there on his cheeks and forehead. He giggled so hard that he went limp, and she got in another half dozen kisses before he could sit up again.

Mrs. Potts stepped into the doorway far more politely than their son. “Neal!” she snipped with some tinge of horror to her voice. “You don’t go running into an adult’s bedroom!”

“But it’s Papa and Mama!” he protested from the bed.

“It’s all right this morning,” Rummond said, squeezing his son. “We’ve been awake for a bit.”

“You won’t say that when he runs in and neither of you are quite so ready for company,” Mrs. Potts warned, giving first Belle a meaningful look and then giving just the same to Rummond.

Belle snickered, but her husband blanched a little and said, “We’ll… need to have a talk about that later.”

“Breakfast is ready for the table when you are, yourselves,” Mrs. Potts told them before she stepped away, satisfied that she’d gotten her point across.

“Why weren’t you home after dinner?” Neal asked, safe in his parents’ arms and not offended in the least by Mrs. Potts’ scolding.

“Ah, well,” his Papa began, and they told him about the boars and the train tracks, and how it had taken a good while to be on their way again.

Belle reached out, running a hand over the boy’s wild morning curls. “We got ourselves home just as quickly as we possibly could.”

Neal appeared thoughtful for a moment before he asked, “Would I like boars?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rummond said with a shake of his head. “They’re great, hairy beasts with tusks and terrible tempers.”

“Maybe they just need friends?” Neal suggested.

His father hesitated. “Well, I-”

“It’s possible that’s it,” Belle said, nudging her elbow against Rummond’s side. “But they make friends only with other boars. They’re very gruff toward other animals.”

“They should be nicer, then,” Neal declared with a nod. “Then they could have all kinds of friends.”

“Aye, they should,” Rummond agreed. “Perhaps then we wouldn’t have had such a delay.”

Neal pushed away from his Papa’s lap and crawled over into his Mama’s, plopping himself down with her. “I’m glad you’re home now. I’m _so_ glad,” he told them as he leaned against her. “I missed you every day.”

“And we missed you,” Belle assured him. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We missed you every single day that we were gone. We thought of you often, you know.”

“You did?” he asked, tilting his head to look up at her.

“We did.” She nodded and gave his back a pat. “As a matter of fact, to show you just how often we thought of you, we brought back some things for you.”

 _“Presents,”_ Rummond whispered, and he watched as his son’s eyes went wide.

“Presents?” Neal looked to his Papa. 

“After breakfast,” Belle said. “We’ll go to the sitting room after we’ve all eaten our breakfast, and you can see what we’ve brought you.”

Neal was still for an instant before he crawled right back out of Belle’s lap and slid down from the side of the bed, hurrying out of their bedroom. “I’ll tell Mrs. Potts we’re ready to eat _right now!”_

Rummond chuckled at both his son’s excitement and the bit of stun on Belle’s face at suddenly losing her lap’s occupant. She looked to him with an amused expression.

“Well, then. Which robe do you want?” she asked as she pushed the covers back.

He turned back his own side of the covers, watching her walk across from the bed. “We don’t need to get dressed?”

“A dressing gown is perfectly acceptable for a family breakfast,” she told him, pulling one from the drawer of the great oak wardrobe. She took a robe for her husband from the other side of the drawer and handed it to him as he stepped up behind her. 

He gave it a doubtful look. “We won’t be risking Mrs. Potts’ ire?”

“We’ve many, many years ahead of us to risk Mrs. Potts’ ire,” Belle said as she slipped her arms into her dressing gown and adjusted it over her shoulders. She grinned up at Rummond, reaching up and lacing her hands together at the back of his neck. “Might as well get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In between_   
>  _One Heart beat_   
>  _And the next,_   
>  _This Breath_   
>  _Is yours._   
>  _\--Nathan Alterman_


End file.
